He's a Keeper
by FateIsNot
Summary: The 1920's. American population grows over immigrants from Europe. Yet, ot all mean well for their new home. A powerful German mob in New York owns the streets, committing crimes. The Beilschmidt Family. Their boss; Gilbert Beilschmidt. A heartless man, caring for no one but the family and business. But that may change over a Austrian that just arrived in America. Prussia/Austria
1. Chapter 1

**Rated**:

M.

For violance, gore, and other eventual "events".

**Discription**:

The 1920's. America's population has been growing rapidly. The reasoning; foreign immigrants from Europe. So many of them have come to look for the American dream, to start a family and have peace with their new given freedom. However. Not all mean well for their new country. A powerful German mob in New York is quickly on the rise, owning the streets, getting money from organized crime, which caused ruckus and distress. The Beilschmidt Family is responsable. The ruling German mobbers of the street. Their boss; Gilbert Beilschmidt. A seemingly heartless man, that cares for no one but the family and its business. However. Maybe a new coming Austrian musician will have what it takes to have this man change in some ways.

Prussia/Austria

* * *

The streets were so crowded. There were so many people. Talking and moving quickly, brushing past whoever they could, trying to get to where ever they had to go without much care. But it was to be expected to be a busy street. There were markets about after all. Some selling fruit, some selling meat, or bread, others just items that were in good enough condition to give away to the public. The owners of these stands though, strangely, did not shout in order to get the peoples attention. They simply stood there, waiting for them to notice their goods. A few did of course and bought what they had to give, however, they might of done better if they let their voices out for at lest a moment or two.

Yet a nice way to look as it, was that there was less annoying noises to go out.

At lest, that was what one Austrian thought, as he made his way through the people around him. Roderich Edelstein. A young 20 year old, European man, who had just got off of the boat here to the United States of America, through the checking line, and now off to make his new life in this country. In his left hand was a large suit case, which he had to drag about a few times from its heaviness, it being full of his clothing that he had brought from his old home. In the right, he held a violin case, which inside was, of course, a violin.

He looked only a small bit irritated from everyone that surrounded him, as well as tense. He could not be blamed for it either, he just wasn't used to all these people. The streets of Austria were not as busy. Or as dirty for that matter. But knowing that he would just have to get used to it, he excepted the difference of his home land to this one, and kept on walking with his nice black dress shoes tapping quietly along the stone street, at lest being glad that his nice black suit and collared shirt had not been tarnished after his last hour of being in such a mess. Ah, he did not think that the fall would be this cold. Maybe he should buy a coat.

"Ah!"

He suddenly yelped out as a man slammed into his shoulder. The guy did not even try to move himself away! However the Austrian quickly recovered himself, and stopped in his tracks. And before he could turn around to excuse himself, though it was not his fault, the man he had bumped into turned around quickly, glaring at him.

"Hey, watch it!"

He snapped. Roderich looked over his shoulder and at the male that had just spoken to him, taking notice to the fact that he had a German accent. And once he laid eyes on the man, he saw that he was accompanied by two others, all dressed in rather expensive looking suits.

The Austrian blinked a few times, narrowing his eyes a small bit to somewhat return the mean looks that were being given to him, but of course he forced himself to keep polite. This was his first time in this nation. He did not want to start anything off to badly at lest.

"Sorry..."

He said in a low tone, his voice soft, and holding a German accent as well, but to him it would be known to be an Austrian accent.

The man who he had bumped into slowly smirked once his eyes meat Roderich's lavender hues, along with the one of the other men, while the last one simply stared back at the young European. Why he was smirking the young man had no idea. There was nothing funny about the situation. Then again who knows, the guy could have a way of twisted humor. But Roderich would not pick at it, or ask the man over it. He would just simply ignore it.

"Let's hope that you are."

The male said as he turned, and went on his way with the other two following him. Roderich narrowed his eyes slightly more, than huffed, turning his head back forward and walking along to find his destination. He could not believe how rude people in this part of town were! Even though they were not Americans, they could have acted a bit more kinder then that, and actually except his apology like gentlemen! Yet, there was no use in lingering over that now. He had to find his apartment after all. Though that was becoming quite troublesome. Gently pressing by people, he finally made his way to the sidewalk and into a clear space where people were not walking. Setting his violin case down, he fixed his hat then, went into his pants pocket to grip a sheet of paper. Griping it lightly, he plled it out, and unfolded it to where he could see the writing inside.

'5022, Royals Street, Apar. 24'

That was what it read. He blinked slowly. How was he supposed to know where this place was. He had searched for it for some time now, after asking a police officer where the street was. He followed his directions, took the turns he was supposed to, and everything else. Yet he still could not find his new home. All the more reason to be irritable. Letting out a deep sigh, he looked around for a moment, wondering if anyone may know where the street may be. His violet hues landed on the first stand he saw, which was the one on his right, not to far from him at all, a man that was selling fruit standing there patently as he gave the woman he had just taken money from a bag of apples. Thus, he went to go speak to that man, picking up his case before walking over towards him.

"Um, excuse me."

Roderich spoke to get the man's attention. He responded, and looked over at the young Austrian, blinking a few times as his eyes laid on him.

"Ja...? May I help you?"

He asked. Hm. Yet another German. However his accent was rather deep. He struggled for a moment, as if he had to remind himself of something. He must not be quite literate on English yet. But, Roderich thought that he could at lest understand it, so, he let down his case once more to only show the same piece of paper to the man while covering the apartment number with his thumb, who looked at it once he saw Roderich gesture to it.

"Do you know where this is? This street?"

He pointed at it. The man blinked once more, then looked over his shoulder, pointing behind himself. It seemed that he understood Roderich just fine indeed.

"Two blocks over."

He told the Austrian. The young man looked over the way he was pointing, though he was now looking at a building, then looked back over to the seller.

"That way?"

Roderich asked, just to be sure. The man looked back at him and gave a few nods as an answer. The brunette took a glance over the direction, keeping it in mind, before looking back at the other once more.

"I see. Thank you very much."

He replied. The man gave a small smile, then yet another nod, before Roderich took up the violin case, turned, and walked off once more, being sure to go to the end of the street and take that left until two blocks passed.

Having a bad sense of direction can be such a hassle.

Finally, Roderich had found his home after following the instructions. He looked up at the city house looking building for a moment, then, at the address. '5022'. He was at the right place. Taking in a breath, he walked up the few steps he had to get inside, then pushed open one of the two doors with his side. And behind front desk he saw a man, looking through a folder, though stopped once he heard the Austrian enter.

The man was bald, but, had a gray curled mustache, looked about his mid 40s. He had slight tanned skin, but, did not seem to foreign at all. He was a bit on the chubby side. Wore a white collared shirt, black tie, and black pants. He showed a smile as Roderich made his way deeper inside, and to the front desk.

"Hello Sir... Oh. Wait... Do you speak English?"

He asked. He was American indeed, considering he did have the American accent at lest. The young man gave a small nod.

"I do just fine in fact, yes."

He replied. The man smiled wider, then gave a nod.

"Ah, good, good. Makes my job a bit easier... Hold on. By your accent I would say that your German, right?"

The man asked as he leaned over the desk, resting his arms upon it. Roderich held back a sigh of annoyance. He hated it when people mistaked him to be a German. He wasn't! He was Austrian. There was a large difference between the two, even though most people do not see it. One, the language was a small bit different, but not by much at all. Two, their people are just as diverse, over how could be explained over a list of things. However, Roderich would not let himself go over them with this man.

"No Sir. I am actually Austrian. Now, may I please have the key to my room? I am quite tired."

"Oh, yes. Sorry, of course."

The keeper replied as he pushed himself off the desk.

"Do you have the paper to prove that you are taking residence here?"

"Yes. Here."

Roderich replied to him as he showed the paper that had the information on his new apartment upon it. The man looked at it as his smile faded slowly, studying closely, then just as quickly the smile came back, him turning to then go to one of the hocks that were hung from behind in the glass casing, taking out a set of keys to undo the lock.

"Right then. Remember, rent is due at the end of the month. 10 dollars in cash is all that is asked of you. Bills will more then likely be around 4 dollars a month"

He started. Turning the key which in turn made the lock undo itself. Pulling it off, he opened the small glass door, and gripped the key that had '24' printed above it.

"I will remember."

Roderich simply replied. Once he pulled that out, he closed the door and redid the lock. After, he turned back around, holding the key out to Roderich so that he may take it.

"Here you are. Apartment 24."

He spoke. The Austrian, this time, let down his suit case, feeling some relief as he did so, and gripped the set of keys, there being two of them.

"An extra, just in case you lose the other one."

Explained the elder man. Roderich put the keys and paper both in his pocket now, then grabbed up his suit case, bowing his head quickly as a part of his thanks to the man.

"Thank you. I will be sure not to lose either of them."

After saying that, Roderich turned to his left, getting ready to go up two flights of stares with his heavy case and precious violin. The man gave a small nod, then, paused for a moment as he remembered something. This remembrance, however, made his eyes widen a bit. Thus, he turned his head to face the Austrian, who was already mid way up the stairs, holding out his hand to get his attention as he called out to get his attention.

"Wait, Mr. Edelstein!"

He called out. Roderich stopped, and looked down at him from the stairs, blinking a few times as he wondered just what the man might have wanted from him.

"Listen. If you see a group of Germans in sharp suits coming your way, I highly suggest you avoid them and keep out of their way... especially one man. One that has dark red eyes and ivory hair. You stay as far away from him as you can. Do you understand."

He said in a serious way, the smile that was once upon his face now gone. Roderich tilted his head a bit in question, then took a step down to place himself more comfortably upon the steps. Men in high-class suits? A man with red eyes and ivory hair? Why that was quite rare.

"Why do you say this?"

Roderich asked. The man lowered his hand slowly upon the desk, looking away from the young man as he sighed deeply. There was a pause, but, a short one before the elder looked back up at the Austrian.

"Just follow my warning ok. You might see for yourself soon enough..."

The man trailed off, then, he looked away slowly to only look back at the folder he was looking through before, picking up a pin as he turned to page. Roderich rose a brow. Well that was quite strange and random. He did run into Germans that were wearing rather nice suits before, but, he did not think much of it at all besides them being rude. Now suddenly this came up, a warning over possibly the same men.

In any case, Roderich let it go. He did not have time to linger over it now. He simply wanted to get to his room and rest for the evening.

* * *

A while of unpacking, and setting his violin in a safe place, Roderich sat down upon the couch, the room already having the furniture he needed. None of it really did fit his taste, however, it would have to do. He could not be picky in such a new land. However, when he got the money to move out from here, he will be sure to get furniture that actually fit his taste.

It was finally night time, the moon up in the sky, street lights on, and dark outside.

With a deep sigh, he finally removed his dress shoes, putting them upon the floor neatly near the door, where was luckily next his setting place. He then loosened his black tie, and settled removed his suit coat, gently laying it upon the arm of the couch. Ah. Tomorrow may be a bit harder for him. He will have to go from place to place to find a classical music club to work at. Already having his career planned out. He will start as a piano player here in America. Play when he could for the people. Being paid for a job he would deeply enjoy. Music was everything to him after all. Classical that is. He did not very much care for the new Jazz that was on the rise these days. In fact, he did not like it. He prefered Beethoven, or, Mozart. Hopefully the American people did as well. Surely they had some taste in the fine arts.

Then, maybe, if he was truly lucky, he will become recognized for his skills. Maybe join a symphony orchestra at some point. travel around. Do what he found to be the best thing in the world. Play the piano.

Roderich found himself showing a small smile at the thought. Wouldn't that be something? All he could really do is hope he supposed.

With the sweet thoughts in mind, he pushed himself up, then, made eye contact with the radio that sat next to the lap on the night stand in front of the window.

"Hm..."

Pondering over if he should turn it on and give it a try or not, he finally made up his mind, walking over to the small thing to only turn the knob carefully. Of course, it came on, a man speaking through. A commercial over oven baked bread. How nice. But, Roderich did not want to hear. He knew how to make simple things like that for himself after all. So, he went to the other knob, and turned it as well, trying to find a station that may be playing his beloved music. After a small bit of searching though, with no result, he turned the device back off with a light sigh of slight disappointment, then, turned, going off to the kitchen.

Going on a search for the kettle that he could use to make some tea that the government had surely supplied him with, he finally found it in one of the bottom cabinets, taking it out to only go to the sink and fill it with hot water, to only set it on the stove, grabbing the set of matches that were set near, lit one, then lit the burner to make the fire start, making sure that it was set just right. Then, blowing out the match, he set it to the side for now along with the box and went on the search for the tea. Eventually, he found it as well, it being in a top cabinet. It was a simple brand of English tea. However it would have to do.

Heading back to the living room, knowing that he would have to wait a small bit for the water to boil. He set himself back down on the couch, leaned back, and closed his eyes. My. Such a tiring day. Maybe just a small nap will help him recover from all this mess. Yes. That sounds nice. He will wake when the kettle whistles.

* * *

"Ahhhhh!"

Only five minutes after Roderich had finally to sleep, he jumped awake at a sudden loud sound. However, it was not the kettle that made him wake, though it was now whistling. A loud scream did. And it was coming from outside. Roderich, first looking out the window for a few seconds, quickly stood as he fixed his glasses. He did not know who had made the scream, or why, but it sounded like a woman. It was a cry of fright if he was not mistaken either. So, slowly, to see what the commotion was about, he began to walk to his window. Gripping the cheap blue curtains lightly, he moved them to the side to look out the glass covering, then, he saw four men crowing over something. Kicking and punching. As well as yelling. Roderich squinted his eyes slightly to see just what, and from what his eyes took in, he gasped. They were actually attacking someone! He hoped it was not the woman he heard. Thus he went to search about with his eyes to see, and soon, they landed on the same woman, who was screaming at the men to stop, crying as she yelled for them to stop, to leave her husband be, calls for help also being mixed in with her pleads, while another male held her from behind to where she could not do a thing.

Roderich covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes widening as he watched this. Oh no... He should call for help! Get the police on the phone, something! And just before he could turn, run out his door, and head for the pay phone in the hall way, all the men backed away from the other male that they were beating, one that wore a long black over coat, a gray scarf, and black fedora hat, took out a gun, taking several shots. This made Roderich flinch with each fire, and his mouth drop from disbelief. How could they... how could he just...?

"Nooooo!"

The woman screamed as she collapsed, almost falling to the floor, however the man who held her kept her up. It was not long before blood began to spread and trail itself over the concrete around the dead body.

"Komm! Lass uns gehen!"

The man who had the gun yelled. The Austrian noticed that it sounded a bit scratchy, and was a bit deep. But brushed if off just as quickly. The man hid the weapon within his long over coat. The other, that was holding the woman, threw her down, then they did just as they were told and quickly got into the black car that was parked just right next to the sidewalk, slamming the doors shut. Roderich only watched as the men went to have their get away.

However. Before the vehicle pulled off, he could have sworn that the driver in the front seat looked his way. Right up at the third floor. Through his window. At him.

And, from the street lights, Roderich didn't know if he was hallucinating or not. But he could have sworn saw those eyes of the man in the driver's seat, that had just killed that poor person,... were red. A deep red. That he had never even seen in his life.

They just screamed out that he was dangerous. From the very look they had in them.

The Austrian felt himself tense under that stare. Under those evil hues. And even from where he stood, he could see a smirk slowly creeping across the man's pale face. But, nothing more after that, for only a second or two later the car sped off. Leaving the woman there alone, crying out and sobbing deeply as she crawled over to the man that laid upon the ground.

It took a moment to realize.

Roderich had just witnessed a mob attack. He knew that he did. And on his first night in New York.

Those men... had to have been German mobsters. The German mobsters that the man at the desk warned him about.

_Especially the one with red eyes_.

"Oh my..."

Roderich couldn't help but to trail off. He was just that shocked. But he had to force himself together. He had to call the police. Thus, slowly taking a few steps back, he suddenly turned around, unlocked the door, and ran out from it, heading right for the pay phone. Forgetting all about his boiling water.

* * *

[** A/N: **Like it so far? I know it was a bit slow at first, but, hey. Now you got a nice idea of the story! Anyways... **Review review review REVIEW**! Tell me what you think, I really want to know if I should go on with it! ]

**Translate**:

[1] Ja: Yes

[2] Komm! Lass uns gehen!: Come on! Let's go!


	2. Chapter 2

A day had passed after that horrid event. After that horrid, brutal killing. And still, Roderich Edelstein found himself shocked. He just couldn't believe something such as that would ever happen right before his eyes. He only read books that had murders in them, or, scanned through it on the news paper over the death of someone. But he had never even once thought that he would see such a even happen before his very eyes. Not only taking a witness to a beating, but, a _murder_. A murder for God's sake!

Though there was not only shock dwelling inside him, but, rage. Part of it was because of how the men that killed that person beaten him first. They also did it before his wife. The poor woman. Even Roderich had to feel sorry for her after she had to go through such a scaring experience. Yet, his anger was also aimed over another reason, that had to do with that night. What the police said, and did, after he had called them, and went down to give a witness point of view. He remembered it clearly.

* * *

_Lights flashed from the police cars as still, the vehicles parked in place. The woman, that watched as her husband was killed, had been talked with to by two police officers. She sobbed and cried still, but, she tried her best to keep herself together and answer questions. Three other officers, and a set of ambulance, were putting the dead body inside the back of the large truck, taking the body out from the area and more then likely to a morgue. Some people were either looking out the windows or were out in the streets to watch the thing. Others just seemed to have been used to such events, and went back to sleep, knowing that there was not a thing they could do. There were a few reporters around, taking notes and asking questions to the police. But it was not as hectic as it sounds. In fact it was a bit... calm. As if it was nothing new._

_Roderich took notice to that of course, as he stood there on the sidewalk, a officer seeming in his early 50s speaking to him. The chief officer, that is._

_"Are you the one who called the incident in?"_

_The man asked as he neared Roderich, looking at him with a calm, but stern gaze. The Austrian of course looked back at him, and gave a light nod as a part of his response._

_"Yes Sir, I am."_

_He replied calmly. The officer then took out a small notebook, a pin, then flipped a few pages. When he found a clear one he stopped, and got ready to write down what information that could be given._

_"Alright then. What all did you see?"_

_He asked. Roderich told him of course. That he simply heard a scream, went to the window to see who had yelled out, to be able to watch as that poor man being punched, kicked, and yelled at all during the proses. And eventually, the seemingly leader of the group of men took out a gun after the others backed away, and shot about four bullets into the already dieing man's chest._

_"What else after that?"_

_The chief urged the young European to tell more. Roderich paused, then, replied._

_"I heard him tell his men that they had to go in German, then, they got in the car and rode off."_

_The Austrian said. It was then the officer stopped his quick writing and looked back up at the younger male. The almost careless expression across his face turned into something. Roderich did not know how to describe it, but it may have been collected. The elder then lowered the notebook, which Roderich glanced at in sight question, wondering why the man had stopped when he said that._

_"Yeah? Did you see what one of these men looked like? Or no?"_

_He asked. The Austrian blinked in a bit of confusion, wondering where that had come from, though in any case he answered._

_"I did. The man that shot him that and that also drove the car off was the only one I saw though. He had pale skin, and wore a black long over coat with a black fedora hat. He also wore a gray scarf. But... his eyes were red. And his hair a strange color. Almost silver. Yet, I think that, well... it was most likely ivory."_

_He replied. He remembered it all well, though he was slightly hesitant on telling that much of the description. Not because he feared that man that killed. But because of how strange it was. How that warning from the desk keeper still lingered in his mind. A man with red eyes and ivory hair. That German speaking killer fit that description, that was certain._

_"I see."_

_The officer said. He then closed his notebook, put it in his pocket along with his pin, letting out a quite sigh._

_"That is all then Mr. Edelstein. You may retun to your home."_

_The elder spoke as he went to turn around. Roderich narrowed his eyes, becoming even more confused. Did the head of New York police just brush off the description of the man just now?_

_"Wait, Sir... Aren't you going to write that down?"_

_Roderich held out a hand to be sure that he had the man's attention. The male looked over his shoulder since his back was turned on the brunette. He did not even think over the answer for at lest a second or two._

_"No, I am not. It does not matter after all."_

_He replied. Does not matter? He just gave a description of a killer, a mobster no less, yet the chief of police said that it did not matter? Roderich narrowed his eyes slightly, both irritation and anger growing inside him from that ridiculous response._

_"But it does, doesn't it? It could come into good use, and help you find the killer faster, surely simply writing the information down to remember, matters."_

_The Austrian spoke. It was then the chief quickly turned around, now glaring at the young man in anger from his urge to put down the description, and snapped at him._

_"Do not tell me how I should do my job, boy! And do not stick your nose into business that isn't yours!"_

_Roderich returned the glare. He did nothing wrong, he was only trying to help, only trying to get that ruthless killer behind bars. Yet he was being yelled at for doing so. He could only just give a look of his disapproval. Needles to say the Austrian was not happy with what he was told one bit what so ever, letting his hand back down to his side. The officer paused, then, sighed deeply, the look of anger slowly going from his features, but he still kept his own stare._

_"You're new here, aren't you? To America I mean."_

_He asked then. Roderich blinked a few times. He did not know that that had to do with anything. But, he answered no less._

_"I am."_

_He simply said. The chief glanced to the left, then to the right quickly, before taking a step towards the younger male._

_"Then you have no idea how things work here. To cut it short, the man is innocent of his dealings. End of discussion. Now. Go back to your apartment, and stay there. Don't bother calling us again if you see that man."_

_After the elder said what he had to, he slowly turned, to only then walk off, calling his men and telling them that they had to get back to the station._

_Roderich just couldn't believe this. How could he say that? That man was not innocent, he was far from it in face. He just killed come one! Yet the lead of police in New York just brushed the fact off right when he told the man the description and was now walking away as if nothing had happened! What kind of law does this country have? Were the other states like this? Unbelievable. The Austrian narrowed his gaze even more, the rage inside building more and more as he watched the so called "police", got in their cars and dive off. While the woman herself was taken into one of the cars, and was possibly being escorted home._

_How could they just let this whole ordeal go?_

* * *

Roderich sighed deeply through his nostrils. He could not stay over such a memory. He supposed that he had to move on and get with his life. Thus, he went into his pocket as he stood before the building that he took residence in, going into his navy blue dress pants, to only then pull out a sheet of paper, and, a map of the area, both of which he just got from the nice man at the desk.

Before this, he did try to ask questions. Over that man with red eyes. However, Mr. Williams, as the man was known, only replied that he should just keep away from him, and to not even make eye contact. It was dangerous enough to do so.

_"But if he insists to approach, let him, speak with him. It would be a better choice to do so. Other wise you may anger him. And in turn... it could be the death of you. So please, be careful."_

That was all he could get out from him. It was quite annoying. He only wished to know why this man was feared. Why not even the police could stick up to the gangster, and only cower away. He may find out soon enough over who the man is. But for now, he will have to start looking for a job for this afternoon.

"Alright..."

He said to himself aloud as he unfolded the paper. First of the five listings upon it, was:

_Shrewd_.

That was what it read. Of course, it was a classical music dance club that was about five blocks over. All had an opening for a pianist. For that was where he would start first, to see if there was a chance that he could get the job. Thus, putting the paper back in his pocket and keeping the map at hand, just in case (not that he would admit it was because of his sence of direction). He turned to his right and began to walk through the small crowd, this time actually having room to breath, and having more of a chance at finding his destinations.

No luck. He did find the place. However, the position had been filed just this morning. Just his luck. He then went to try to other places.

'_The Forsance, Numbra, Notes of Art_'.

All turned down the Austrian, without him even giving an example of his skills. Even if he insisted to try, they still sent him on his way. He knew why of course. Though this part of town was meant for Europeans, does not mean that the people that gave the jobs enjoyed them. He could tell of course, by the looks they had in their eyes. They knew that he wasn't from America and turned him down. They wanted American players in their band, not out of country civilians. At lest he did try. And he didn't give up hope. Not yet. There was just one more place.

'_The Palmpay_.'

A strange name for a place that held classical music, however, it was his last shot. So, taking in a deep breath, he headed for it's very location, which was a mile away, taking a quick glance at the map as he did so. And, though he had a small bit of trouble finding the place even with the map, he finally made it to the front entrance. He scanned over the building slowly. It was a fair size. It had a classy look to it, healthy sets of four palm trees on each side of the building, with circled windows, two of each of the front side, high so that no one can really see through them, and a almost light blue painted outside, the roof over lapping the building slightly to have a silver and gray metal outline to it. And in italic, curved letters in a, considered for a building, small print read the name of the club, right above the silver and gray metal doors, which also had a circled window in each one. All in all, the building looked quite nice.

He read the sign that was put before the door.

'_Closed. Opened To Auditions Only_.'

Well, he should head on in then, since he was one of those that were to audition. Thus he walked inside, putting the map in his pocket after folding it back up, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He pushed to first set of the doors. Then noticed that it lead him to the front room, with nice wooden flooring and light blue painted walls, with dark blue ruffled cloths hanging from the ceiling on each side, and a nice chandelier over head. My. It looked quite nice indeed.

Looking at the next set of doors, he walked over to them, and pushed one open himself. He blinked slightly in slight amazement. There were many tables around, covered with white cloth, and fresh candles placed in the middle. The performance room large, and there had to be at lest 100 of these tables, while there was still enough room for a wooden dance floor. The bar from afar was not bad either. It was large, dark blue with silver as the slide table color, and dim lighting. But the stage was what really took Roderich. It was huge. Enough to fir a while orchestra. Which it more then likely did. With light wooden floors, a half circle in the background giving light to the stage, while dark blue ruffled cloth surrounded it above and around, becoming thinner and thinner as it circled around the whole room. But, there, upon the stage, stood his calling. A Grand Piano. He stared at the large, black and white instrument, but he could not admire it for to long.

"Excuse me."

Someone said from his left. His attention quickly went to the voice. There, stood a man, with short cut red hair, and had green eyes, wearing a bartenders uniform. And if Roderich was not mistaken, he had a Irish accent.

"Are you here to audition, sir? Or might you be lost?"

He asked calmly. The Austrian blinked a few times, then shock his head.

"Ah, no. I am here to audition. I'm sorry. I was just admiring."

Replied the young European. The man smiled widely, then chuckled, crossing his arms, seeming slightly amused by the apology.

"I see. Don't worry. It's good to know that you enjoy the looks of the place, just like most of everyone. But, anyways, my name is Hareld. I'm the manager. And you are?"

The Irish man, Harled, tailed off to let the Austrian fill in his words. Which he did.

"Roderich Edelstein. You are in need of a pianist?"

He asked. The Harled gave a few nods, while looking over to the stage, and at the wonderful piano.

"That we are. The last one, well, just quit..."

He trailed off as the smile across his face faded. He more then likely knew the answer, but, acted as if it was a good one. Roderich did not fully understand on why the man would let go of such a job that he more then likely did enjoy, but, did not press the matter.

"I see. Well, I suppose I am in a state to where I can take his position. That is if you will allow me."

Roderich told him. The man trailed his gaze back over to him, then, smiled once more.

"More then willing actually. The position has been empty for some time, along with a few others, but, they do not have as much of importance. But, in any case, give me your best shot."

The Irish male said. Roderich paused, and rose a brow. Was this man telling him to just go on stage and start off? That was a bit odd. The others at lest offered applications.

"Don't you need to know about my information first?

The young man asked. Harled shrugged lightly in response.

"All we need to know is your location, nationality, and if you just arrived to the country or not. That's all. You will just tell me now since that is all that is required."

He responded. Roderich blinked slowly. That was a bit unprofessional. Things like that irritated the Austrian. He wanted things to be professional. In these kinds of places, that is just how everything should be. However he could not complain in the situation he was in. He either excepted the way the man did things, or he would just have to leave.

"Very well... I am Austrian. My location 5022, Royals Street. I only arrived to the state just yesterday."

He replied while he closed his lavender hues. Harled smiled a bit wider, then, gave a nod in understandmeant.

"Good. Then, you may go play, and show me what you have. If I like it, you get the job. Sounds like a deal?"

The man asked. Roderich reopened his hues, then, gave a small nod, before doing as he was told without another word. He made way down the small set of stairs calmly, made way past the tables, through the dance floor, and eventually made it to the stage. Standing there before the piano for a moment, he took this time to admire it. Oh it had been some time since he had ever even seen such a wonderful instrument. With polished keys, reflecting the light, and its smooth surface. If he made this, it will be all his. He could play his beloved music once more. He only wished he could bring a duplicate of this very piano home so that he may also have the pleasure of doing the same thing whenever he pleased on his free time.

"Alright, start when you are ready."

Harled called out from afar as he took a seat at one of the tables, pulling out one of the fine carved wooden chairs to take that very seat. Roderich was snapped from his daze, and took a glance over to the man. With a small flush of embarrassment coming across his face, he cleared his throat, then, walked around the bench, taking his place. For a moment more, he looked at the keys through his glasses. Then he took in a deep breath as he closed his violet irises. Lifting his hands slowly, he placed them gently upon the keys. And know one of many songs by heart, he plaied the first that same to mind. Piano Concerto No. 21. Mozart.

It almost seemed as if his fingers were simply gliding through the precious keys. Pressing ever so gently. Hitting every note in perfect tone, at perfect time, at perfect rate. It was... Beautiful. The notes just sung out a pure and sweet melody that only a master could pull off. That only Mozart himself could pull off. Yet, Roderich Edelstein, was just as perfect. Maybe, possibly, better. And gently, but just barely, the young man moved with the music. Swaying his head with the gentle melody, as he always did tend to do. Becoming completely consumed with the graceful melody. As if he was apart of it. His face, remained smooth, calm. He was completely and utterly one with his music.

It was not to long, before he was done then. One he had hit the last not, he paused for a moment, then, slowly opened his orbs. The next thing he knew, he heard not only one applause, but, more. He looked to the side, seeing Harled accompanied by a few other people. Two dressed in waiter uniforms, while the others were also in bartender uniform. Four men, and two women. Clapping for him him.

"Well done! Well done!"

Harled called out as he stood from his seat. Roderich did the same, standing, to only then turn his body to face the others. He showed a small smile, then bowed his head.

"Thank you."

He replied, before straightening back up.

"No, thank you... I have not heard such perfection since Beethoven. Your truly sound to be a master my friend. I think it is needless to say that you have the job. When can you start?

He asked. Roderich felt his heart lift. FInally. Finally. Everything was coming together, in only after a short while of coming to this nation. His first step has been taken into his dream. And if everything goes well, if anyone should come to recognize him, he will one day be in a large orchestra. Living out what he enjoyed the most. Music.

"At any time."

Replied Roderich as a small smile came across his face.

"Grate! You will start tonight. 8:00 sharp, and do not be late. Alright?"

The Irish club owner smiled wider while crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Roderich gave a nod.

"Yes. Understood."

He replied.

"Then, for now, our waiter will show you around, alright. Feliciano, will you please do the honors?"

The male asked. The young waiter, which looked about 18 years of age, with short brownish reddish locks, and seemingly closed eyes, smiled widely from his name being said. From him being able to show this new person around the club.

"Ve~! I will!"

He replied happily. Roderich blinked a few times while looking at the young man, watching as he neared over to him. Odd. The boy seemed... strange. He looked rather happy, chearfull. Yet he also held an Italian accent, his voice even sounding somewhat hyper. Though he did look sweet, Roderich could tell that he was going to find some sort of annoyance with him.

"Here Mr. Roderich! Follow me this way."

The little Italian said as he gripped the taller man's hand gently, tugging him to follow. Roderich of course did not take to kindly to the touch, and huffed quietly. He had to hold himself from snapping at him for so suddenly gripping his hand, because if he did, the others may have not liked him yelling. So, keeping calm, he simply followed.

"Fine. But let go of me, if you would?"

He said in a smooth manner so that he would not seem rude while they walked off the stage.

"Oh, ok!"

The young Italian then did what he was told, letting go of Roderich, while looking over his shoulder, still having the almost goofy expression across his face.

"This way this way!"

Things started off from there. The young Italian showed him all around. First, the backroom, which was hidden behind the curled cloth next to the stage. There were dressing rooms, a rest room, and a lounging room where the musicians can relax in and listen to radio or read. Smoking, back there, was not aloud. But off the stage in the audience was allowed, along with smoking outside. Then, the bar, where the drinks could be mixed in ways Roderich could never even think of. He would much rather go with the wine they had, which was expensive, but, at lest he is allowed one free drink after a night of performance, from what Feliciano told him. Then, there was the orchestra room, which was also hidden by the cloth on the wall on the other side of the stage, where all the instruments were placed neatly and in order, for only their players to come and pick them up whenever they came back.

"Ve. That's about everything. If you have any questions at any time, or need help with anything, please do ask."

Feliciano said as he just kept smiling. Roderich blinked, then gave a light shake of his head.

"I have nothing in mind, but, thank you."

He replied.

"Alright then! Since I gave you the tour, you may go home! But remember to be here on time tonight, the boss gets angry if your not."

Roderich knew how the Italian knew that much. He looked like the kind of Person that would be late every now and then by sleeping over or playing around in his own manner. But, he would not say such a thing to the boy.

"Very well. Thank you once more."

The Austrian told him.

"It was a pleasure!"

The sweet Italian waiter said as he waved his hand about. Roderich let out a small the boy's constant smiling and over joyed expression did annoy the Austrian a tad bit, in a sense, he enjoyed it. Not that he would say so aloud. Only keep it to himself. Austria waved back, before turning around and heading for the door.

This surely had to be a good turning point for him. In all ways. And already, he had made friends so far with the people he is more then likely going to work with for a while.

* * *

The moment was here. Roderich stood there in his black suit, his collared shirt neatly placed, his white cravat tucked into the double breasted buttoned suit neatly. He kept behind the curtains next to the large stage, peeking out to see how many have shown. Needless to say, it was quite a crows. There were many people here. Men with the women, more then likely eating out for the night for a romantic evening. The bar was filled as well, men talking with one another over stories that would not really matter to one another. And the whole place looked quite nice. Was not even that loud. And now, the Austrian could not help but to be nervous.

"Hm..."

He said aloud.

"You alright there Roderich?"

Someone asked from behind. The European jumped lightly from the slight surprise, then turned around, looking at the man that had called to him so suddenly. Harled stood a few feet away, looking at the Austrian, then realized what he had done.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

He said, rubbing the back of his neck as he showed a small smile to strengthen his apology.

"Ah, no, it's fine... But yes, I am. It's just that I have not played for so many people all at once."

Roderich spoke as he turned his head back around, looking back out into the crowd. Harled blinked a few times, then, crossed his arms, showing a slight smile.

"Nervous huh? Well, don't worry. It will go away once you start playing, I'm sure. Plus, you have nothing to worry about. With your talent, the people will absolutely love you."

The musician smiled at that very complacent. It did raise his confidence. Maybe he really did have nothing to worry about. These people were well into the musical arts if they were here after all. He just had to keep calm and do his best was all.

Then, suddenly, his thoughts snapped. He found his eyes slowly widened as they took notice to something. Or really, someone. Oh God... It couldn't be. No, please, it couldn't be. That mobster. That... That murderer! Roderich's eyes caught the man he saw from that night. Walking to the left side of the dinning area in the middle section. He recognized those that face. Those dangerous eyes, darting over to the few free tables, with that same smirk across his face as he kept his hands in his long black over coat pocket, the same fedora hat being worn as well. His ivory hair still peeking out from it though, resting around his features. Behind him followed seven other men, talking to one another at the moment. Over what Roderich did not know. But what he did not, was that evil person was here. And on the very night the Austrian was to play. Of course.

And what was strange... Was that he was being greeted by people he passed by. The men either called out to get his attention, said hello, which he returned with other words, and the women smiled and gave a gentle wave of their hands while also saying hello. And in a happy manner, as if they were glad to see him. All fo them.

"Harled..."

Roderich said to get the man's attention. The Irish club owner blinked a few times.

"Yeah? What's wrong, you sound troubled."

He returned with his own words.

"I am only wondering something."

Replied Roderich.

"Um, alright. Out with it then."

Harled replied, somewhat confused over Roderich's sudden change of mood. However the Austrian did not take much care, him now lifting his hand, to only point out to the now seating mobster, as he talked with his friends now.

"Who is that man?"

He asked. Harled moved closer, now standing next to Roderich and followed the trail of his pointing finger. When he saw the person Roderich was pointing at, he only took in a deep breath, and let it out into a deep sigh. Then he paused. It seemed as if he really didn't want to tell Roderich. Or really, he didn't. He would much rather walk off and not speak over it. However, he had no choice. Roderich would know at some point anyways. So, the Irish man spoke up.

"That man you're referring to is Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt... Look, I'm telling you right now, whatever you do, do not mess with him in any way. Do not even cock an attitude with him, alright? Especially when he is here. This is his favorite club after all."

Harled warned the Austrian, now looking at the new friend next to him. However, Roderich did not look back at him. He only focused upon the man now known as Gilbert, as he kept talking with his friends. Grate. To make it all worse, that monster comes here often.

"Everyone keeps telling me that sort of thing over and over. But I want to know why I must avoid him. I know that he is a mobster, but, is he truly that dangerous?"

The Austrian asked. The man next to him rubbed the back of his neck once more, and paused. But, he answered after a moment passed by.

"Look. You're new to the city. To the state, and country. So, you need to know this... The guy is not really just an ordinary little block mobster, going around and firing off. He owns the state of New York. Or most of it at lest."

Roderich then tore his eyes away from the man that sat afar, and looked at his Irish friend in surprise. At first, he did not know how to reply to that. He owned New York? Legally? Well, that was rather doubtful. He knew what Harled meant though, on how that evil man owned the state. It was just shocking. To hear such a thing. He never even thoguht gangsters could have such a power.

"You must be kidding. There is no way that that brute could own a state, or even a city for that matter."

The musican protested agent such a statement. Hearled sighed deeply, then shrugged while giving a few small shakes of his head.

"Well, belive it or not, he does."

He said.

"W-well what about the governor? Shouldn't he be the one in control of New York? And what about the police? If he is a mobster, shouldn't he be in jail?"

Roderich asked. He just couldn't believe it... A mobster such as that owning the whole state. Or, almost the whole state.

"You would think. But he knows the governor. Pays him off to stay out of his business more then taxes ever had before, and as for the police, the same thing. Paid to stay out of his dealings. And, besides the pay, there is also their lives. The guy could have those people killed with just a snap of his fingers with his own family. No questions asked. There are just that many of them, but, he is only related to one guy out of the whole gang now. Call themselves the Beilschmidt Family, in case you ask."

Harled replied. Roderich looked back outside, and at the same man that he had come to hate, without even meeting him personally. Gilbert seemed to have been ordering something for everyone at the table as he gestured to all his "friends" to the waiter, who nodded and soon went off.

"That's..."

Roderich trailed off. However the lights outside began to dim slightly. That was the que for the musicians to come out and take their places, the people now lowering their voices, while some then began to eat their food, waiting for just this moment to eat while the live music played.

"Ah. Show's starting. Look, just get out there and do your thing. Remember to focus on the music, you'll be fine. And don't worry about Beilschmidt. He won't bother you, alright?"

Harled gave a light pat to the Austrian's shoulder, while foot steps of many were heard from behind. Roderich looked over his shoulder, and at the man once more, giving a few quick nods. He then took a deep breath, while Harled left his side to only stand out of the way for the others as they carried their instruments long with them, such as violins, cellos, and flutes. Roderich quickly fixed the white gloves he wore for this occasion, then, walked out from behind the curtain, and continued forward to lead the fellow musicians to the stage. The dim lited half circle brightened slightly more as Roderich stepped on, feeling many eyes upon him, while the people clapped and whistled for joy as they watched the men and women take their spots on the stage.

And even though he felt many eyes on him, since he was new, most likely, he could feel _his_. Just staring. Watching him differently from all the others. Watching him in a way that he had never been in his life. Roderich just couldn't help but to tense a bit. The very same way he did just last night after that shooting.

While Roderich took a seat at his bench, he stole a glance over to where that evil man was, to only meet his dark red eyes. But across that pale face he could see a smile. A strange smile. Why was he looking at him like that? So fixed on him? Was it because he witnessed the shooting? What? Why wouldn't he look some place else?

Ugh, he had to snap out of it!

Forcing himself to stay upon the music he was to play, he straightened his back, and took a deep breath. Stay with the music. That is all he had to do for the next few hours.

Stay with the music.

So, closing his eyes slowly, he lifted his hands, and rested the covered digits on the smooth keys.

The music...

Pressing down gently on the first lining of notes, he started the whole orchestra off into a gentle symphony after the crowd was silent. Gliding his fingers cross the white and black keys with such ease. The notes ringing out in such a soft, soothing manner. And the more Roderich pressed, the more consumed he became with his music, as it helped him calm and take away his troubling thoughts. The violins soon followed his melody, then, the cellos. The flutes came in a few minutes after. And all of it combined into the wonderous melody of Prelude in E-Minor. Chopin. And in habit, Roderich moved just barely with the melody, his dark brown locks gently rocking back and forth with each small movement, him trying to stay in synch with it. To find comfort in it. Which he did. And hopefully will through this whole time he had to be on stage.

But even after all this time, he still felt those red eyes upon him. Watching him intently.

* * *

Three hours had passed now. Some of the people that were he a hour or two ago had left. But not many what so ever. In fact, almost everyone, after all this time, stayed to watch the new pianist play with such grace, harmony, and to them, beauty.

Gilbert thought just that. Beauty.

That man... That new little pianist. He couldn't find it in himself to look away from the beautiful little thing he had discovered just last night. And what a lucky little coinsidence. He could still feel that he had his smile across his pale lips as he watched the pretty European play out his wonderful music, it, now being the only thing he could hear.

Taking a small sip of his beer that he had ordered, this being his tenth one, he kept watching without any noise. He wondered if anyone else in the room noticed how the man's skin glowed ever so slightly from the light. How calm he seemed as he plaid along, while as his music became deeper into emotion, his facial expressions changed ever so slightly. Then as it calmed, it went back into its normal state. Gilbert just couldn't help but to even notice the little things about the man, such as the small smudge on the bottom right of his glasses. Was he going crazy over this beautiful man? Or was he just simply overly observant? He himself didn't fully know. The point was, that he enjoyed not only the new piano music that he had never heard before, but the musician himself.

"Brother..."

A voice that held a somewhat thick German accent spoke. Gilbert didn't have to look to see who it was. He knew that it was his little brother, Ludwig. Bothering him for some reason.

"What?"

He asked simply. The blue eyed German glance over at Roderich quickly, then back over at his elder brother.

"You have been staring at that man ever since he came on stage. You know that, don't you?"

He asked in a whisper, leaning over slightly so that Gilbert could hear him.

"So what? I can look at whatever I want. If you find it wired of me then get the fuck over it."

Gilbert said, to get his brother to back off of him. Which worked. Ludwig sighed deeply, while reaching out for his own drink and took a small sip himself, while the other men glanced at them then back to the stage where the music kept sounding out.

"Besides. You enjoy staring at that little Italian waiter that runs around here now and then."

The smile turned into a smirk as Gilbert said that. Ludwig tensed, then looked over at his brother as a deep flush came across his cheeks.

"Be quiet, I do not."

He snapped quietly, but Gilbert held up a hand to his brother's face to hush him up.

"Shut up."

He demanded. The blonde sighed deeply, hoping that the men behind did not hear what his older brother just said. However they more then likely did, which was why some were smirking down at him while the others held back a laugh. But they knew better then to say something while Gilbert was fixed. So, the red eyed German just kept watching with interest. Unable to look away for even a moment.

However, it was not long before the song ended. The last song. As the young pianist hit that last note, the lights slowly began to brighten, and then, applause could be heard all around, as all the musicians stood. Gilbert clapped his hands as well, his smirk still across his face, as he watched Roderich stand to his feet, and lightly bow to everyone.

Hm. How cute...

Then once the European sat back up, once more, he looked over at Gilbert yet again. The German smirked a bit wider once they made eye contact, then, he gripped his beer glass, lifting it slightly to personally show his appreciation to the Austrian. After, the European looked away from him, and began to walk off stage.

Oh, so damn cute.

Then, with the pianist leading the way off the stage, Gilbert still watched. Until finally he was out of sight.

"We should head home. The show is over."

Ludwig said as he stood up, grabbing up his gray coat and light gray fedora hat. The others got up as well, getting their own cotes, only some of them bringing their hast as well. They all, of course, had something to eat, but they would leave their plates there just like everyone else. However, Gilbert, kept his seat for the moment.

"You guys go on ahead."

He said suddenly, which made Ludwig, along with the other German gang members, stop in question. Ludwig rose a brow, wondering just what his brother was up to.

"Gilbert, it's late. We should be getting home."

Ludwig urged his brother to follow with them. Gilbert narrowed his eyes slightly, not liking how his brother was telling him what to do at the moment, then looked up at him.

"I said go. Start the damn cars. I will be out soon. Alright...? You two, stay with me. Follow me into the back alright? I want to see our new little pinist personally."

He said as he gestured to two of his friends, who in turn, kept their places. The younger brother paused, then, let out a deep sigh as he put his hat upon his head, then put on his coat.

"Fine. Just don't do anything. He's not a target."

He gestured for the others to go on outside. Gilbert smirked at that. Oh, no, he may not be a target to kill, or even harm for that matter. But was a target in some way no less.

Giving a small lick to his lips, Gilbert bushed himself out of the chair, straightened his coat, and gripped his own hat as he kept his eyes on those curtains that his the door to the back rooms.

He really wanted to see that adorable musician. Wanted to talk to him. Why? Yet another thing not even he really knew. He just had to.

"Come on."

He said, before walking forward and down the small set of steps, heading right for that hidden door, with his fellow mobsters following right behind him.

* * *

[ **A/N**: Alright, here is chapter two. I know it's long, but, I thought you guys may like it. I hope it does not seem rushed! I tried real hard to keep it interesting. Now... **Please tell me if I should go on, or if you enjoy it**! **REVIEW**! Thank you! ]


	3. Chapter 3

"Wow, I didn't think that such talent existed these days! Roderich, you did a real good job!"

"Yeah. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you are Mr. Mozart in another life."

Roderich just kept getting compliments from people all around. Most of them, of course, were European. Few were Americans.

In turn he couldn't help but to show a smile, feeling accomplished, and of course, good about himself as everyone spoke to him in such well-mannered words. For once he did not mind a small crowd, but, it may be possibly because everyone was praising his work after the show, all the members apart of the band, including himself, within the lounging area.

"It would be nice if I was. However, it is silly to say such things. I only did what I could."

Roderich spoke. He would not let these compliments go to his head, even though he enjoyed them. He was never really one to let his ego grow, at lest, by to much. The others however, just kept insisting.

"And more! We know that there will be a growth of customers flying in no time! And all because of you! And did ya see how the audience reacted after the show! Man, they love you!"

One of the few Americans in the room spoke with a wide smile across his face. Roderich did not think that much of his performance. He wondered if the man's words were true. Would more people really start coming in? Visiting, just to see him perform? He had never had such a thing happen before. Back in Austria, he would keep to himself in his music room, play for his own pleasures and no one elses. He did not mind. But this felt a lot better. To actually have people acknowledge your talent.

However as long as he had his music, he supposed that it did not fully matter. Even if everything did go smoothly, to where he actually joined a world wide world known orchestra. He only wanted to enjoy his job, just as he was now.

"I suppose."

Roderich responded as he looked down at his feet. It was then everyone else looked to each other, and began to talk about other things, such as what is going on their personal life or what all had happened during their little weekend, others getting their things together to go back to their residence.

There was still a downside to this whole ordeal.

That man.

Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Roderich still kept it to mind. Of how he just kept staring at him during the whole show. Not even taking for a moment to look away. At lest that was what the Austrian could tell. His eyes just pierced him in such a way to where he could feel them after all those hours. And why did he even stare in the first place? There was nothing so interesting, he was only doing what he enjoyed. Yet that strange, vile man, just wouldn't turn away for even a moment. It bothered the musician very much. And the worst thing was, was that he was going to have to deal with it. He worked here after all, and from what Hareld told him, this was his most favorite place to eat out. How troublesome.

"Ve? Roderich, are you alright?"

A Italian asked. The musician lifted his gaze, then looked over to his side, to only then see Feliciano looking at him with both a questioned and worried expression. The Austrian blinked lightly with his violet hues, while the slight frown across his face faded along with his distant expression, him not even noticing that it was there in the first place.

"Yes, I am fine. Just a bit tired."

He lied to the young Italian.

"But why are you back here? Aren't you supposed to be heading for home?"

Roderich switched off the subject. He did not even want to think of that murderer right now. He had to remember to not let the man get in his way during a nice hour with others. He kept that very thing in mind as he now only focused on his younger friend. Feliciano smiled then, being happy that, seemingly, nothing was wrong, then gave a few shakes of his head.

"No. I am closing tonight, so I have to help clean up. But, if you are really tried, you should get back to your own house. It is late after all."

Replied the Italian, suggesting what he thought to be right for Roderich. The musician gave a small smile, then a small nod.

"Yes. I will be sure to. Have a good night."

Replied the gently spoken Austrian. Feliciano smiled a bit wider, then gave a quick nod.

"Alright! You as well!"

It was then the Italian waved at Roderich, before walking away in a almost excited manner. Roderich just kept showing that small smile of his, before letting out a deep sigh. He should leave now. Maybe a nice cup of tea and a home made cake will calm his nerves finely. Those two things always did after all.

Going to the coat hanger that stood at the right corner of the room, he grabbed up his coal black coat that he bought on his way home after the interview with The Palmpay, and put it over his body, his arms going through the sleeve. Making sure that it looked well enough over him, he sighed deeply and went to go out.

"Hey."

Hareld's voice went out, which caught the Austrian's attention, knowing that it was directed to him. Looking over at the doorway, he watched as the Irish man approached him with a smile across his face.

"You did just how I thought you would. Brilliant."

He complimented. Roderich once more showed his small smile, before gripping his soft hat, putting it upon his head before giving a light nod.

"Thank you. I only did what I could."

He replied while lowering the hand he had just used down.

"Always modest, huh...? Are you going home?"

Hareld asked. Roderich gave a small nod as a part of his reply.

"Yes."

Hareld gave a few of his own nods, before reaching into his vest, taking out a piece of yellow paper from a inside pocket, looking at it for a moment before focusing his attention back on Roderich.

"Alright. Since tomorrow is Monday, we open earlier, so, I need for you to come in at 6:00. Can you do that?"

The piece of paper Hareld pulled out was more then likely a schedule. However Roderich did not think much over it.

"I can."

He told his Irish friend. The man smiled wider.

"Good then. You will be paid on Saturday, paydate ends every Friday. Come pick up your money after 10:00, ok?"

He asked. Roderich smiled a small bit more.

"Don't worry over it, I will be sure to get my pay. Thank you."

The musician then walked around Hareld, heading right for the opening frame, while others said goodbye to him, which he replied to with small waves of his hand.

"Have a safe walk home!"

Hareld called out, which Roderich somewhat wished he didn't. For once more he was reminded of that lingering mobster boss.

His smile went away, and he glanced to the side, before walking to his right and from the people he was slowly starting to know. A safe walk home. He could only hope so. That evil man was just here at this club. Eating dinner and drinking beer as if he had never done a thing wrong. When he did. Killing, and beating people for a living. What a savage way to go about life. And from the expression the mobster had last night, with that smirk and such, he did not even care that he killed that person, and Roderich just couldn't understand on how. He supposed that the brute was only in it for good pay. Or possibly enjoyed taking someones life. At that thought, the Austrian narrowed his eyes lightly, then sighed softly.

He had to remind himself to stop looking back on that man. He would not even think of his name. Just keep focused on other things. For the more he thought about him, the more Roderich became angered, and, slightly irritated. He did not want to go about his night like this. He just wanted to walk home, get inside his apartment, make tea and cake, then relax before going to bed. That was all. He should think of other things on his walk. Such as a song he should suggest the others to start with, or, what he should do in the mean time of the day before work. Such things as that. Thinking over a gangster was just ridiculous. He had to forget even hearing the mans name, or knowing that he was even ever there. He should be fine by doing so.

"Nein, nein. Sie nehmen ein Recht, und dass Sie auf dem Markt zu nehmen."

Roderich's ears suddenly prickled at the language he knew so well. Understanding every word that was said perfectly. He quickly lifted his gaze from the floor, to the front of himself, where he saw two men with long over coats standing near one another, talking over directions on how to get to a market apparently.

They did not even take the time to look at him. They just kept on with their conversation. He thought that he recognized them. However the Austrian brushed it off. They did not seem like they would bother him. His eyes moved to the hallway on the left, where the exit that the players were supposed to take, from what he remembered on the tour with Feliciano. Thus, walking past the two men, he went around the corner.

However, after taking a few steps after that turn, he suddenly stopped. Roderich couldn't move. He just couldn't. He was to taken by surprise, and shock. For there, only feet away and standing before the door, was that evil man.

Gilbert.

He had a cigarette in his mouth, his teeth clinching lightly to it as his gaze went from the same two men the young European had just passed, to him. Once under that same stare, he tensed lightly, his hands giving a slight twitch. Why was he here? Why was that damned mobster here? Out of all places? And in his way no less.

Slowly, the red eyed man grinned at him, as their hues meat. Seeing the expression across the Austrian's face. It was adorable. Not that he would say that to him. At lest not at the moment.

"Hello."

Gilbert started. Roderich, however, did not return the greeting. He only tried to recover at this point, his widened eyes going back to normal while his slightly opened mouth closed, his mental state returning after the man's appearance. He took a bit of notice that the men from behind had stopped talking, and were now more then likely watching them. To see this the Austrian looked over his shoulder, his theory proven right once he made eye contact with the two Germans.

"Don't worry about them. They won't hurt you. That is unless I tell them to."

Gilbert spoke while taking out the cigarette in his mouth, which turned the Austrian's attention back over to him. Roderich swallowed then, ignoring what he had said, before glancing at the door. Though when his gaze returned to the man before him, it narrowed in a warning manner, showing no fear towards the mobster boss.

"... You are in my way."

He finally said. Gilbert grinned wider at that. Was the Austrian trying to seem tough? Well if he was he was not doing a very good job at it at all. Sure, the stare may have shot down a few people, but not him. No. In fact, he found that the little glare made the musician even more adorable. He enjoyed seeing it. He really did. Along with that stern tone the man used. It only made that cute addance Roderich had to him shine brighter.

"Am I now?"

The boss asked as he looked over his shoulder and at the door. He stared at it for a moment, before turning his head back around, lifting the drug back to his lips, sucking the smoke quietly while the end lit up with a orange flame, but it died out once the mobster pulled it away from his lips.

"Maybe there is a reason for that, don't you think?"

Gilbert asked while smoke came out from his lips with each word, as he took a few steps forward. Out of reaction, Roderich moved back from the horrid man, trying to avoid him from getting close while still holding his gaze. It was then that one of the two German mobsters from behind pushed himself off the wall and went to go stop Roderich where he was. However Gilbert took notice, and rose his hand, as a sign for him to leave the Austrian be. Of course, he did as he was gestured to do, and now only stood in place. Roderich stopped, while Gilbert only neared.

"And the reasoning?"

Roderich asked. Was he scared of the ruling mobster? There was a small bit of fear in him, yes, but not enough to where he would cower under the man. He would keep strong, and push back that small amount of fear in him, making sure that it would not show to the brute that would more then likely find it amusing.

"I just wanted to meet you is all. You played nicely out there. Personally, I will admit, that I am a fan of the classics. However you truly bring them back to life... Where are you from?"

Well that was a rather random thing for the man to ask. Where did he come from? What does nationality have to do with his music?

"That is none of your business. Now step aside."

Roderich demanded. Gilbert paused at that, finally stopping when he was just a foot before his fellow European, staring down at him. Then he chuckled deeply. A strange sound he made being mixed into the light laughter.

'_Kesesesese_.'

"Well, aren't you a rude little priss?"

The mobster asked as he inhaled the smoke the cigarette had to offer once more. Then, pulling the stick away from his mouth to hold it between both his thumb and index finger, he blew out the smoke from his nostrils.

"I complemented you, yet, here you are telling me what I should do."

Gilbert continued. There was a slight pause, Roderich not fully knowing what to say at the moment, but, would come up with something. However, before he could start to think, suddenly Gilbert flicked the cigarette at the Austrian, which in turn made Roderich jump from the sudden action and take a large step back so that he would not get burned in any way. This made the mobster chuckle in that strange way again, while one of the two men smirked from behind, the other giving a smile of amusement himself. And before Roderich could do much more, his arm was suddenly gripped by the mob boss. In a strong, iron grasp. Roderich of course tried to get out of it, however, there was no chance as the hold only became tighter from his struggle.

"Ugh! Let me go this instant!"

The musician snapped at him in a demanding manner. Then the next thing he knew he was thrown to the wall, his shoulder taking most of the impact, which in turn made the Austrian flinch as his soft hat fell to the floor. He looked at Gilbert, the man who was now pinning him to the wall, to only see those dark red eyes narrowed, and a serious expression across his face. But that grin, turned into a smirk. The man was being stern, but, could not help but to still be amused by Roderich's actions, which was more then likely why he kept his lips curled.

"Tell me, do you know who I am?"

Gilbert asked as the grip tightened even more, to where Roderich thought that there may be marks left behind, even through his layers of clothing. However he did not focus upon that as much. He only stared back at the man who out matched his hight by about two inches. Not replying to the question as quickly as the boss may have wanted.

"Well? Do you, priss?"

The mobster urged for a answer. Roderich narrowed his eyes at that nickname the man was seemingly giving him for the time being, finding it rather annoying. Yet he had to keep focused on the situation as well. He knew the other men were watching, and would do whatever they could to help the head of their "family" get an answer. Thus, taking a deep breath, the Austrian let out a deep sigh.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt. A mobster boss of the Beilschmidt Family. A murderer."

Roderich finally replied. Gilbert rose a brow. So, he knew him then. Good. Made him save time on explaining. However that last part was yet another reason on why he had that urge to raise his brow at the other.

"Now, that's a rather nasty word to say. I look at it more to be 'a working man'."

The mobster replied, keeping his grip on the Austrian. Roderich snarled at that.

"Call it what you will then. It makes no difference on what you do."

He replied. Gilbert narrowed his eyes slightly more, and the smirk across his face became smaller. He was starting to become tired of the Austrian's little attitude now. In fact, it was starting to annoy him. But not by much.

"You know what, you're right. It doesn't. And, you know, being that form of business man pays off well, if you haven't heard... But, sometimes, I enjoy doing the same thing even after getting rid of troubling people."

The mobster boss spoke. Mean while, his free hand lowered, Roderich taking quick notice to this and looking down as his heart began to race even quicker then it already had been. Gilbert moved the coat out of the way then lifted his own suit slightly, to only show the gun that he had hidden under the clothing, it resting between his belted navy brown pants and tucked in, thin, white buttoned shirt. Roderich tensed at the shining silver. The very gun intimidating him. He knew that it was more then likely loaded to. Why wouldn't it be? It was a mobster's weapon. Gilbert's weapon. And him being a boss of a "family", there just had to be bullets in that barrel.

"Especially those that want to make me look like a fool."

Gilbert suddenly added. Roderich glanced up at him, then at the men from afar, who still watched them. Then the violet eyes went back to the dangerous, powerful mobster before him, not saying a word.

"Now. Like I said. I only wanted to meet you in person. Face to face... Here. Just give me your name and I will let you go home, hm? Does that sound fair?"

Gilbert asked with a tilt of his head, making sure the Austrian was looking right at him. Which he was. The musician blinked slowly. He knew that this man could kill him. Right here and now. And there was not a thing he can do about it. He had more strength then he did. Had a weapon, along with his two friends, who more then likely also had weapons. Even if he did get away, he would not get far. He did not have much of a choice but to give into the gangster, now did he?

"It's Roderich Edelstein."

He answered simply, his gaze narrowing a bit more. Glare and answer. That was all he could possibly do.

Gilbert's glare began to fade, and the stern expression did the same as well. He was satisfied with the new information that he was just given over the pianist that he, in fact, enjoyed.

Roderich Edelstein. Mm...

It was then Gilbert let go of him, and took a few steps back away from the Austrian. He straighten his nice tan suit, and fixed his over coat as well, looking formidable once more.

"There, see? Was that so hard?"

He asked. Roderich did not reply, he only kept his glaring eyes on the man, and stood his place. He did not know if he should snap at the man for acting out with such a behaviour or simply walk off to the exit. Both were not really good choices. Both may either get him hurt, or, possibly killed.

Gilbert glanced down at the floor then, took notice to the soft hat that was forced off of the Austrian's precious head. Then he lowered himself, gripping it gently with his fingers, then lifted himself back up to only hold it out for Roderich to have.

"Now... you may leave."

Gilbert gestured to the door with his head. For a moment, Roderich did not move, unsure if he should really make his way out or not. However, he decided for himself that he should. It did not seem that Gilbert was going to do much more to him and actually keep true to his words. Or so he hoped. Thus the Austrian decided to reach for his hat and snatch it from the man, then, in a somewhat quick pace, headed for the door while keeping his gaze on the German mobster, until after a few steps, then, he turned his head back around, opened the door, and with haste he headed home. His heart still beating his chest. Dear god...

* * *

Gilbert watched as the door closed behind the Austrian, still looking quite amused.

Even with fear, the Austrian was more then attractive. In fact, it only flared Gilbert's interest more.

The mobster boss turned his head to face his men then.

"I want files on that guy, do you hear me? All of his information you can scratch out in any way by tomorrow. Put it on my desk when you get it. Understood?"

Gilbert asked. Of course, the men did not question him. They nodded, and gave their words of understanmeant.

"Good. Let's get to the cars."

It was then Gilbert turned and walked for the head exit of the building where the cars were waiting for him, the two other Germans following him.

Needless to say... he wanted to have more then just that talk with the Austrian. He will be sure to come back for dinner at this very club tomorrow night to see him once more.

* * *

[ **A/N**: And there is chapter three, the first meeting. So! I hope you guys enjoyed it! Things will start to roll even better in the next chapter, then on! Being writen by Gilbert's settings and all for number four. So! **Review** for even more He's a Keeper!


	4. Chapter 4

"Alright. From what we gathered, his name is indeed Roderich Edelstein."

Ludwig spoke as he walked over to his brother, who was sitting in a rather comfortable looking chair behind his large, smooth, almost shining wooden desk, his red hues looking up into the ceiling for no reason particular.

Gilbert, at the time, was simply leaning back in the chair, a lit cigarette hanging out from his mouth. However, when he did hear his younger brother, his attention went over to him, his eyes following him as he made way over, with a packet of papers at hand. But soon they were out from the digit, Ludwig lightly tossing the papers on the desk for his brother to take a look over himself.

"He comes from Austria, Vienna. His age is 20, and, his date of birth is October 26. He currently had a small job in Austria as a waiter in a coffee shop... Seems that he thought he could do better in America."

The blonde German kept speaking to his brother, giving out basic information on Roderich Edelstein as he took a seat on the couch on the far right hand side of the room, taking off his fedora hat to only rest it near the lamp and on the night stand next to the arm rest.

The German boss slowly grinned at the given information, before letting out his hand, grasping the papers, pulling them to himself.

"Well done, West. Just as I expected."

The elder brother finally replied as he began to read through the sectioned information on the Austrian he had taken quite the interest to. Ludwig slowly blinked as he watched his brother, then, he sighed through his nostrils deeply. He did not understand. Why was his brother so intent with the musician? Yes, the Austrian was attractive, was beautiful in many ways. Even the blonde had to admit that much at lest. However, still, this was strange. Even for his brother. Stalking someone that he did not even have a clue over, and off the job, knowing that there was no pay to be given by it or anything. Roderich Edelstein was no target in any shape or form. At lest that was how Ludwig saw it. So, leaning forward a bit more, he rested his arms on his knees, his fingers lacing together gently.

"Brother, what is this all about?"

The blonde asked. Gilbert did not take the time to look over the paper he was still reading. He continued, scanning through, making sure to get each and every detail that was offered.

"What do you mean?"

The mobster boss finally spoke while his eyes shifted to another paragraph, going over it now, already half way done with the first page. Ludwig shock his head lightly.

"Don't give me that, brother, please. You know just what I mean. You ask for information over this man after only seeing him play at The Palmpay, you go off to talk to him over whatever reason, and I see you dazed off more then usual sometimes when ever you walk into the room, then, at two o'clock in the morning you were gone for about five hours for some strange reason... Why does this man matter you? Do you wish to get rid of him for some reason?"

The younger brother asked. Of course, he was concerned for his big brother. The man had been acting stranger ever since they had come back from The Palmpay, all of those things listed being out of Gilbert's form of normal. Going somewhere late at night was something he did when he had to fulfil a clients wish of getting rid of someone with some of their men. Last night he went all alone. And dazing out the way he was, when he usually didn't do so, was also out of the normal. Along with all this gathered information and deep interest. What was Gilbert's deal?

"Don't worry about it Ludwig. It's my business, not yours."

Replied Gilbert simply as he flipped over to see if there was more print on the back before going to another page, which there was, thus he began to read on to see what more he can gather over Roderich. Ludwig narrowed his eyes at that reply a bit.

"Nein. It is my business. Not only as your Adviser of the family is it my job to keep you safe, but also as your brother. Going out and about like that is not good for you even if you have this state. Being a boss you are vulnerable. And these strange acts of yours only worries me more. This is not like you brother. Just tell me what this is about."

The blonde pushed the other on to at lest let him have something. There had to be something. Had to be a reason. However, Gilbert was not taking to kindly to Ludwig's tone, and was actually, quite annoyed over it. Thus he looked up at the man, narrowing his eyes, and gave off a slight glare.

"I just told you to not worry about it Ludwig! Now knock it off already and shut your mouth!"

The brother snapped at the younger one. Ludwig did not back down his own glare though, only intensed it a bit more from Gilbert raising his voice like that. The two exchanged the looks for a moment, before Gilbert finally broke the eye contact, looking back down at the paper, remembering just where he had left off before. The German sighed once he saw his brother do just that, then calmed his gaze, looking to the side while leaning back on the couch. A few moments of awkward silence passed between the two siblings. Germany was still looking to the side, while Gilbert kept reading that page. Until he was done with it. Then he laid it, along with the other sheets of paper, on the wooden desk while he looked over to his little brother, staring at him for about a few seconds, then finally he spoke.

"I'll tell you. But remember, it's only between us. I do not want the other guys to have their noses in my business as well. You got that?"

Ludwig looked over at him once hearing those words. So his brother was finally going to tell him just what was going on. Good. He was glad. Gilbert did not mind telling his brother fully, but, it did brother him nonetheless. So he will only give short answers to get it over with. Thus, getting up from the chair, he took a deep puff of his cigarette, heading over to the two glass doors that led out into the large balcony that over looked the back yard from a second story view, staring out the peeking shades that just barely let in the sun outside, and over his large green yard.

"I have some form of interest in this guy West. Don't know how, but I do."

He spoke, smoke coming out of his mouth as he did so.

"I want to know what I can about him. Everything I can. Getting it from the man himself will be quite the hard job, considering he already hates me, and I can't really beat it out of him... I think about him a lot too. In many different ways. Some ways that you don't even want to know about."

He continued. The German rose a brow slightly at what Gilbert was saying. That was true. Knowing his brother, and what he could think, he did not even want to know what kind of imaginations of that musician were running through his mind.

"As for where I went last night on my own... Well, I went to visit his place. Just for four hours though. Not that big of a deal."

Still Gilbert went on. Now Ludwig was really wondering. What was his brother doing that for?

"For what reason? Did you go to talk to him?"

Ludwig asked. Gilbert glanced over at him quickly, before looking back outside and over to the potato garden that was put in not that long ago, trying to avoid eye contact now.

"No. Not really."

He replied after a moment.

"Then what did you do?"

Ludwig pushed for a straight answer. Yet another pause.

"I... admired from a distance, I guess you can say."

Gilbert spoke, of course being hesitant over that sort of information. However it was true. He did. He kept at the corner of the street, looking into the window. Waiting for that beautiful man to possibly pass inside. However he never did. He must have went to bed. To make sure of that though, Gilbert did something that was even more odd. He went to the stairs, which led to each section of the apartments outside, and after climbing three cases or so, he finally found himself before that very same window, looking into the room. Lights were off. There was no one in the living room. So, he went the the window on the left side of that one, and there, he looked through the somewhat transparent curtains, to only find that the beautiful Austrian was sleeping, with his mouth open, hair slightly messy, and looking so peaceful. So perfect. So calm... And many other words that just could not describe such beauty. And for four hours he watched as that precious man slept.

Not that he would tell anyone in the family or any outside of it. That was for sure.

"Brother... That is stalking."

Ludwig suddenly said, snapping Gilbert out of his slight daydream as he remembered that adorable sleeping face. The gangster looked over and the other then, raising a brow as he removed the cigarette from his mouth with his thumb and index finger.

"Hm?"

He sounded.

"I said that is stalking. It's wired, Gilbert, you do not do that unless it is for job purposes, not just because you want to."

Ludwig said in a slightly strict tone, almost scolding his brother. Gilbert gave a small snort while turning the rest of his body over to face his brother, pointing at him.

"Look, don't fucking call it that. Call it what I just did, alright? Plus it is not even that big of a deal."

Gilbert spoke while letting down his hand, letting it keep to his side now while it still held to the drug. Ludwig rolled his eyes quickly before pushing himself up to his feet, now standing.

"It is what it is, brother, do not try to cover it. And it is a deal no less. He has nothing to do with us, yet, you are acting as if he does or something. Or really, that he has something to do with you. Why?"

Ludwig just kept pushing for more answers. However, his elder brother was becoming tired of his curiosity. So with his gaze narrowing once more, he huffed.

"Listen here, West. You are now sticking your nose to far into my business. I have answered every one of your questions that you just wanted so badly. Now get off my fucking back already about it."

Gilbert snapped. Ludwig just stared at him, before then, letting out a sigh. He knew that by this point that his brother was not going to let out anything else, no matter how much he asked him for more information. He just wasn't going to get it what so ever. His brother only gave a limited amount of answers for him. While others would have to go without knowing. In a since he was lucky to have gotten this far. But, before much more was said, there was suddenly a knock on the door. Gilbert looked to the side, and over at the two twin closings. Afterwards, he turned the rest of his body around to face on fully, both he and his brother wondering just who was bothering him this time.

"Come on in."

Gilbert finally said aloud. It was then that one of the two doors opened up to only show one of the men that usually kept guard outside of the house in the front yard. He looked calm, so, there must not be something going wrong.

"Gilbert, Ludwig... We have another letter."

He said finally, before lifting up the envelope for the sealed thing. Inside containing the piece of paper.

Gilbert huffed deeply. Well, looks like he was just proven wrong.

"Shit..."

He mumbled under his breath to where only he could hear. Ludwig walked forward, making way to the man that held the seal, before taking it away from him. He looked on each side then, trying to see if there may have been any writing this time. Gilbert, from afar, already knew the answer to that. There wasn't. Which was always strange. However it was not something to linger over.

"Ludwig, bring that damn thing to me. Ruhfus, did you see the guy's face this time?"

Gilbert asked while gesturing out to the living room behind the bodyguard. The man gave a few shakes of his head.

"No. All that I know is that he is had a Russian accent just like the others."

He replied. Gilbert narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Well shit. That was perfect. Same guys, same printed envelope, same day. Monday. Even more the reason on why Gilbert hated Mondays. In any case though. The guy was Russian. Bastard's boss must keep sending them without showing their faces because he does not want more of his own family exposed. And every time, they try to kill the messengers. However they only got one of them so far.

Which lead to something... terrible. To terrible. Gilbert did not even want to remember one bit at all.

"Fine. Whatever. Get back out there then. If I need anything then I will come out there to you guys, got it?"

Gilbert said as Ludwig finally made his way over to him, giving him the blank envelope, which in turn the gangster boss took it from him, looking down at the thing after doing so, putting the cigarette back in his mouth.

"Understood. We will be waiting for you then, Gilbert. You too, Ludwig."

Ruhfus said then. Gilbert glanced over at him as a response, while opening the closed seal. Ludwig gave a small smile to the kind man that they knew well, who also returned it, before closing the door behind him finally. Then, Ludwig turned his head back to his brother as he kept next to him, watching as the note was taken out.

"What does it say?"

He asked in a quiet tone.

"Give me a damn minute."

Gilbert replied, already sounding a bit frustrated. Which he had more then a right to be. A letter, from that same man, that did something that just turned both Gilbert, and Ludwig, into rage, sadness, and even depression. Who was this man? They did not know. He wouldn't give a name, would not let his men show their faces, or give out some sort of location on where they might find him. It was all just a damned mystery. The only thing that they all knew, was that the man was, more then likely, a new mobster boss. Of Russians no less. Gilbert had tried to get information to. To get one of his men to follow to see where the messengers went. However every time a sharp corner came, or they went into different buildings, they always disappear. Sneaky bastards.

Needless to say, Gilbert hated the newly arrived gangsters already.

Pulling out the folded letter, he undid it to where it was then opened, the words now showing before his eyes. Ludwig moved a bit closer to his brother's side, trying to see just what had been written down on the paper, Gilbert not taking much action to his brother's movement. Both brothers read it in their heads.

'_Dear German Boss._

_I see that you have killed yet another man for your business._

_Good for you!_

_I mean it must be nice to have money coming in smoothly, especially when winter is coming in, and Christmas is sure to arrive here in a matter of a few months. You will more then likely have enough to get nice gifts for everyone in your large family. Which is also good!_

_But, do not be mistaken or keep your hopes high... That man you have killed, from what I hope you know, was one of my own. And from the example that I have showed you just four weeks ago, I do not like losing members of my family one bit, and I do not take it kindly what so ever. He was very important to me too. Very important indeed. In fact, he was my advisor._

_We are uneven in this matter once more._

_So, in addition, I will be sure that we will become even again!_

_Exciting, da?_

_Watch out for you little brother. He seems like a stern, but nice man, and we do not want him to get hurt in any way._

_Your's truly,_

_Russian Mafia._

_P.S., Have a nice day!_'

"... Crazy rotten low life son of a fucking bitch!"

Gilbert yelled loud enough for the whole estate to hear. He then ripped up the paper like crazy, shredding and tearing with his bare hands over and over, until the paper was nothing but little pieces. He threatened him. That bastard threatened him! With his little brother no less! He was now going to try to kill Ludwig, wasn't he?!

"Mother fucker!"

Gilbert yelled out once more, quickly walking around the desk to only punch a wall near by while he threw the cigarette out of his mouth and to the side. Which in turn made a large hole, the hand within it, now being pulled back out as Gilbert now yelled out his rage, gripping whatever he could and now throwing it.

Meanwhile, Ludwig just stood there, eyes slightly wide with some form of shock, as well as a small bit of fear. The Russian Mafia... was going to target him now. To try and kill him with as many attempts as possible. His whole life, in danger, and all because his brother lost his temper that night over what had happened all those weeks ago.

Shit...

Suddenly, one of the two doors opened, a man peaking in to check on the leader and advisor of the family.

"Gilbert.. is everything alright?"

He asked. But as soon as he aimed attention to himself, Gilbert shot his dangerous hues over to that wooden opening, the vase he already had in his hand quickly being thrown at it. Thankfully, the door shelled the German family member as the glass hit and shattered from the force and hard wooding it had hit.

"Get the fuck out!"

Gilbert snapped loudly. Quickly the man did just as he was told and slammed the door shut from his hurry. Dammit! Dammit all! How dare that Russian threaten him, and his little brother! Even thinking about killing him! Like hell he would ever let that happen! Not this time... Not again!

Still. Ludwig stared down in his own thoughts, still caught in a bit of shock. Yet he was gathering himself, and after a moment, he lifted his blue hues, looking over at his older brother. He watched for a few seconds as a heavy book was thrown next, the man yet to be done expressing his anger.

"Brother..."

He said to get the other's attention. He got it. But not really in a good way. Gilbert turned quickly, his fiery red irises resting on the blonde, before he took a few steps over to him quickly, lifting a finger and now pointing at him.

"Listen to me Ludwig, and you listen fucking well! I do not want you to leave this fucking house with out at lest a car full of escorts! Do you fucking hear me?! And I want all those guys to have Tommy Guns on them, and a pistol for yourself! Do you understand?!"

Gilbert kept his voice at the same high volume, which, the man did not mind. In fact he let a sigh pass through him, understanding his brother's worry completely and totally. So, nodding a few times as a part of his answer, he stared at the elder in a more calm manner.

"Yes. I understand... Just, please, don't do anything stupid again."

Ludwig trailed off by letting his brother know that.

"Shut up. I know that already."

Gilbert spoke in a now quiet, but stern tone as he turned around and walked off to the coat rack from afar, taking up both the long black over coat and the gray scarf, putting both on. The German blinked by seeing his brother doing this, he took a few steps to follow him closer, a small frown coming across his face.

"Brother, where are you going?"

He asked. Gilbert did not turn around as he gripped the golden handle, and pull open the door, the man from before nowhere to be found at all.

"To the fucking Palmpay! I need a damn drink."

With that, the boss made his way to the right, then took yet another right to go down the stairs. And even from where Ludwig was standing, he could hear his brother's voice trail off the walls and into the room.

"Get off your dead ass! Were going out! You two, come with me! The rest of you watch Ludwig, I will be back in a few hours!"

If it was not for that letter, Gilbert would not be so harsh to everyone right now. In fact, he would be kinder, and a be a even bigger joker with the family. This was not the time though. Having that kind of news would make a person both angry, and sad. There was no mistake in that. But there was only so much they could do from this point.

With that in mind, the blonde sighed and looked over at the wall that his elder brother had punched, hearing a car being turned on from the outside after the front door was closed. Well, he supposed that someone should fix it.

* * *

[ **A/N**: Ok. Look, I know I make spelling errors. And I do try to fix them as best as I can. I do spell check, then read over the story, but my spelling is just not that good. So, please, if you are going to review, don't say that, "You spelled this and that wrong". I already know, I try what I can, alright? So please stop doing that, if you would? Just tell me what you think of the story itself. Now then...**REVIEW FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER**! ]


	5. Chapter 5

Alright! Finally, new chapter. Sorry that the update couldn't come fast enough. Between school and work, there is not really much time to update, especally when your job continues to make you work of weekends. Ugh. Anyways, here is the next chapter! Hope you enjoy!

Oh, and, **BE SURE TO REVIEW**! And if you do, don't talk about spelling or grammar, please? I know that there are mistakes, but, I try to fix them as best as I can. There is no need to tell me. Anways, on with the story!

* * *

The passenger's side door slammed loudly after a hand forced it closed, the very sound giving off a slight echo in the streets, possibly causing little, if not some, to jump from the sudden sound. Other sounds of opening and closing car doors soon followed suit, as the men from one black car made their way out to where they now stood in the street. Not for long though. For once Gilbert moved on towards the front entrance in a fast pace, they went after him.

Still he scowled. How dear that freak threaten him. How dare he threaten his flesh and blood, his little brother! He swore when he finds out just what Russian Mafia was sending him those damn letters, and who their boss was, he will make them rew the day they even heard his very name. For now, however, he would have to force himself to calm down, at lest enough to make himself think straight.

A few of the men ran up to the front entrance of Palmpay, quickly opening the door for their boss as they always did, so that he may go inside. They did the same with the second set of the doors, letting Gilbert continue on, before following once more. The Germanic leader quickly glanced about, taking in the sight of there being actually a few people here, while the orchestra played, though some were a bit surprised from the sudden entrance, only few hitting sour notes because they had become distracted. Yet they recovered, and fixed themselves, to where they played smoothly once more. Some of the audience looked over their shoulders to see who had entered so hastefully, and once they saw Gilbert, a few greeted him. Though his response to the kind welcomes was not called for.

"Shut the fuck up."

He warned them as he shot out his glare. Quickly the people did so, and they turned away, without another word to the man. It was then the mafia boss looked over at the stage while heading over to his usual spot that he and his men always took whenever he came here. He wanted to see if his Austrian was seated before the piano.

He wasn't.

After realizing this, the frustration only built, the man's hands quickly turning into fists as a growl escaped him, stopping just before his table. He thought he didn't hear the piano playing. Dammit. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes quickly scanned the room, trying to see if he was maybe walking about. He wasn't. The Austrian was nowhere to be found out here. There was one person that more then likely knew where his musician was. Not seeing him around either on his little search, he turned to one of his boys, who quickly turned their attention to him.

"_Go find that Irish son of a bitch and bring him to me right now. Right fucking now_."

He spoke in flawless German, knowing that the man he was speaking to knew only their home language, and had yet to even try to learn English. The follower of the mafia quickly nodded, before heading straight for the curtain framing that hid the door. Gilbert then huffed, then took a seat at the table, giving a single that the others may sit as well. Gilbert did not even take in the music that was playing around him, for he did not even care about it, not even by the least bit. Without having Roderich there, playing on that piano, it sounded so dull. He could care less for the other instruments that were playing, he only wished to hear the piano. To hear Roderich play for him... Was it so much to ask after this long, horrible day? Doubtful, at lest in Gilbert's opinion.

When the waitress came over to take everyone's order, Gilbert simply waved her off, wanting nothing more then the musician to play upon the piano. And it was a moment after that did the same German that was sent of the fetch the Irish club owner came back, forcing the red haired man to follow him as he kept a tight grip to his arm, almost dragging him along. While the gangster noticed this, he quickly lifted his gaze and his head both, looking up from the table and at them, his anger quickly coming back to him. It was his fault, wasn't it? It was Hareld's damn fault for not having Roderich in tonight! He was in charge of everything, from scheduling, to closing time, everything was up to him. And of all times to have the musician off, he had to decide that it had to be tonight. That son of a bitch.

Gilbert lifted himself out of his seat, while Hareld quickly looked at him, only a small bit of fear swelling in his eyes.

"What is all of this about Beilschmidt..?"

He asked in a firm tone, wanting answeres for being forced out from his office and out here.

"This is not the time to be talking to me like that, prick, I assure you."

Gilbert let out his words in almost a growl, warning the other to quickly remember his place. The Irish man flinched, then glanced away, as if to abjust himself. The leader however did not take much notice and continued on.

"Where is he?"

The Prussian asked. Hareld blinked a few times, now in question, wondering just who Gilbert was trying to mean to. Was he looking for someone? A new target?

"Who?"

He asked a bit dumbly. Gilbert paused for a moment, then, looked away, his frustration and anger quickly rising from the other's stupid response.

"Who..."

Gilbert repeated as his fingers twitched a few times. Was this guy playing games with him? Trying to piss him off even more then he already was? If so then he was doing a wonderful job. Maybe the guy was trying to make him look like a damn fool. And how the mafia leader hated it when people even thought of doing that. He knew just who he was talking about, yet, there Hareld stood, acting like a damn idiot. Suddenly Gilbert lifted his head, the scowl once more across his face.

"You know damn well who! The damn Austrian you fucking hired! Where the fuck is he?!"

Gilbert yelled loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. It was then that everyone had eyes on them, and the orchestra stopped playing. The Prussian didn't care though, in fact, he did not even notice one bit. Right now all of his focus was on Hareld, and the need to find Roderich.

Hareld flinched lightly at the sudden risen voice, even tensed. Then he bacame hesitant. He did not want to put Roderich in danger. Not by the least bit. The Austrian was a good, well mannered man. A small bit on the stuffy side, but, still. He was good. The Irish man didn't know what to do though. Even if he lied to them, judging by how much Gilbert seemed to have wanted Roderich at the moment, he would track him down like a hunter until he fownd him. Then the situation would only become worse.

What could he do?

There was only one thing to do. Tell the truth. But beg that Roderich wasn't at his current location. Thus, taking in a deep breath, Hareld heaved out a sigh, before finally responding.

"He's at home, most likely. He worked this morning."

The male responded, finally answering the leader. Gilbert narrowed his eyes, studying the man, to see if he was speaking the truth. Seems that he was. He did not take the time to make sure. With another growl escaping him, he gestured to two of his men quickly, including the one that was restraining Hareld.

"_You two, stay here. Keep this guy right next to you at all times until I get back._"

He simply ordered in flawless German. Hareld quickly felt his heart sink from that order. Was he worried about himself? No. Not so much. He was mostly worried for the Austrian, thinking that the innocent musician was in danger. And it was his fault. He squealed to quickly, gave the mafia boss the information needed, and couldn't do a damn thing about it now. Only hope. So, as Gilbert turned and walked away in a fast pace with the other few men following, Hareld called out to him.

"What do you plan to do with him?"

He Irish man asked. Gilbert didn't answer. In fact he ignored the other, while the doors were pushed open for him once more, and walked right out of the Palmpay, heading for his next destination. Leaving a helpless, worried, self disappointed Hareld to only stare as the doors slowly closed.

* * *

The Austrian sighed softly, walking about the market place while holding a large paper bag by the handles. Inside, there was strawberries, eggs, chocolate mixes, and flower. He was finally finished his shopping, finding all the necessary ingredients he needed to have in order to make the things he had been craving for the whole day. Sweets. To him, sweets in particular are the best things in this world. Delicious, and always making the day better. Plus, dessert was needed, especially since he was having a small dinner tonight. At lest that was his excuse.

His eyes shifting from right to left, he slowly blinked. Maybe there was a few other things he might need... Oh yes, how could he forget? Two things of milk. He had used the last bit on this afternoons small snack, which was a mini chocolate cake. It was worith it though. He did not mind what so ever at all. Spending money was not in his interest at all. Especially since he had so little, however the sweet for tonight was, again, worth it. He was going to make his most favorite cake that he had missed very much, considering that he had not had it in years, because he had to cut spending even further then he already usually did in order to come to America.

Sachertorte.

A sort of Austrian cake. A cake made from his homeland. He very much enjoyed it. It was wonderful. Delightful really. However, never would he have it in a restront here in America. No. Only Austrians truly knew how to make such a delightful sweet in a way that no others ever could hope to. That was for sure. Which was half the reason on why he was making it himself. He had the rest of the ingredients for the cake at home.

His lavender orbs now looking about, they finally rested upon a dairy store. And without second thought, he went across the street, squeezing past a few people as best as he could, before finally making it to the side walk, and to the front door of the shop. Opening it, he walked on inside, and once more took in surroundings, ignoring the light ring of the bell that hung from the door above his head. His eyes quickly landed upon the bottles of milk, set in ice upon at large table in the middle of the room. Without much of a thought, he went forward, grabbed two of those bottles, then went to the counter as a customer that had also come for the same product left the store. Thus, Roderich soon came face to face with a young woman, who had rather short pale blonde hair, tealish blue eyes, and, well, quite noticeably... large breasts. Roderich reverted himself from them though, and only looked at the young woman as she waved goodbye to the man as he walked out of the store.

"Please, come again!"

She told him in a slight cheerful manner, before the door closed. And once it was, she turned her attention to the Austrian before her, showing a smile to him.

"Ah! Another customer, this is good! Hello there, good sir. How do you do?"

She asked. It was then Roderich also took notice into something else. She had a, what seemed to be, a Russian accent. Or it was possibly something else, since it sounded only a small bit different. Either way though. He answered the young woman in a calm manner, putting the milk upon the counter for her to see.

"I am fine, thank you. I would like to perches these bottles of milk, please. How much might they be?"

He asked. If the price was set up on the table, it would have been mentioned and noticed in some way. However, it was not there, or it was possible that he missed it. Not that it would fully matter.

The woman smiled wider, then put her hands together, lacing her fingers to where they clung to one another.

"Two would cost a total of two dollars, please?"

She answered him, almost in a needful manner. The Austrian however wasn't impressed. He rose a brow slightly.

"A bit more then it is worth, don't you think?"

Roderich asked. This did not cause the woman to react the way he would have ever thought. She began to panic really. Began rambling, trying to explain the pricing of the bottles the Austrian was simply trying to perches, her hands gripping one another so tightly now that the knuckles were white.

"Well it is only a dollar for each when you think about it, and it's freshly made every day! I have a small farm outside of the city and every early morning I go out to tend to my cows then bring in the fresh milk! And I sware that I need the money! I have to keep this place up and running because not only is it my shop, but I have to pay back my big brother after everything he has done for me! He was the one that bought this place for me, and my farm, and other things as well! Please understand sir, please, please!"

She begged, trying to get her point across with a frown across her face and a, what could mistakenly be called, a frightened expression. Roderich tensed at her sudden outburst, his eyes widening slightly. What a strange woman. He only commented on the price, that was all. He could pay for it of course. And after hearing her explanation, he did not find that giving his money away for the bottles was much of a waste anymore.

"Ma'am, please do calm down. I was only making a statement. I will buy them."

He explained to her. It was then that the young blonde began to do as she was asked, and calmed. Then a moment of awkward pause came. Roderich blinked a few times, feeling how uncomfortable this silence was. Glancing at the bottles that still laid upon the counter, he began to somewhat worry over the fact that they may be becoming warm. He had to get home soon as well. It was getting rather late. It was until he went to reach for his right lower coat pocket, did the woman finally react, a smile quickly growing across her face once more as she got ready to take the money.

"Oh thank you so much, sir! Your perches will not be forgotten by me!"

She told him. Roderich glanced at the blonde, before gripping his wallet and taking it out, opening it to only reach into the fold on the inside, taking out the two dollars that would be needed.

"Think nothing of it."

He responded while holding out the bills. She took them out from his hands, opened the cash register, and placed them inside. She then closed the thing back up quickly, before turning to her side. She took notice to something then.

"Oh... How impressing. I do not get much customers, but, I do not have bags to put the bottles in."

She commented calmly. What a truly strange girl. When he mentioned the price, she panicked and yelled out. Roderich of course noticed this, and let out a sigh, a brow raising once more at the woman. Then, he sighed, deciding to just let it go.

"It's fine. I will simply carry them by hand."

He told her. However the woman was quick to protest.

"No no! It's not fine! You already have a large bag to carry, and walking all the way home while also carrying to bottles in one hand is to risky, they might fall out of your grasp and break! Here, I will find you a bag in just a moment."

She told him. And before Roderich could protest further, she already quickly sunk down, opening a cabinet to the counter, and began her search. The Austrian couldn't help but to be a bit irritated by the woman's reactions. She was, what most would refer to, a "spaz". Or possibly bipolar. He somewhat disliked people like that particular, however, there was not much of a choice now. He would have to deal with it for only a moment longer anyways. So until then, he supposed that he would have to stand and wait.

Silence came over the two of them once more. Only the sound of moving items can be heard of now. Roderich blinked slowly, then looked outside the window. It was once more awkward. He wondered if the woman even noticed that was well. She more then likely didn't though, judging by how long she had paused herself without much discomfort being found, or how the silence did not seem to throw her off at all. She was rather... different, wasn't she? Roderich could not go on in such a strange silence though. Maybe he should try to have another conversation with the woman. He could risk her having yet another panic attack, but, how else was he going to push this uncomfortable air off of him? Thus, taking a small breath, he decided to ask her a that he just barely had interest in, turning his gaze back to her.

"So.. Who is your brother, if I may ask?"

He finally spoke out. The woman gave out a small sound after hearing those words. She had tensed, and her movements paused as she went to move yet another item. Roderich blinked a few times in question. Why would she react in such a way? He was only wondering something so simple. Yet she was quite hesitant on answering. In fact it took another moment until she finally responded, going back to what she was doing, and moving along with her search.

"That isn't important..."

She simply said, but in a quick manner, as if she did not want to speak about it. How strange indeed. And before Roderich could say anything more, she suddenly popped up from behind the counter, holding up a few paper bags for Roderich to see.

"Found some!"

She spoke, laying them down, to only pluck one out from the small patch. Opening it, she put both bottles into the bag, then held it out happily.

"I am sorry for the wait! But here they are, sir!"

She said. Roderich responded by letting out his own hand, to only grip the same handles that the woman had a hold of, pulling the thing away from her until he let his own hand down to where it now rested on the side of his body. Finally, he can get back home, and start on that delicious cake that he had been thinking about for weeks now.

"Thank you very much, ma'am."

He replied, before turning to the side, and made way for the door. She did the same thing as she did for the last customer, and waved goodbye to Roderich in a happy manner.

"It was no problem. Please, come again!"

She told him. Roderich thought for a moment over that. There was a possibility that this may not be his usual place to come and get milk. However, it was close enough to home, by a matter of a few blocks, and if the milk was actually as good as the woman said it was, there was a possibility that he may come by every now and then whenever he was in a actual rush. Plus, it seemed that the girl was in a slight financial problem, not that it mattered to him. Really. Still. It all depended on the quality of the milk. Thus, looking over his shoulder, he spoke out truthful words to her.

"I just might."

He said. The woman paused for a moment, the smile fading away, but it came right back just as quickly. It being brighter, and wider. Happy to hear those words.

"T-thank you!"

She replied. Roderich showed a small smile in response, then, turned his head back around, pushing the door open. He walked on outside without another word and glanced around once more. Alright. Now he just had to remember his bearings and get back home. That's all he had to do. But not having a good sense of direction can falter such a thing. However, he will try his beast.

* * *

Well, eventually, the Austrian finally found his way back home. No more crowded streets, loud people, or anything such as that. Just a clear, wide open block. With a deep, loud sigh, he went down his street, and to his apartment building, where he will finally be able to sit down and relax. Only for a few minutes though. Then he will get started on his cake. As well as make a nice, warm cup, of sweet tea. Yes, that sounded rather nice. It would calm his nerves if anything. Then, after he is done making dinner and eating his cake, he will take a nice warm bath. Then, he would get ready and make way for bed. He would be able to sleep in a few hours as well, since he got to work at night tomorrow once more. Same time and everything. Which was just fine with him. As long as he had that piano. Had his music. He did not care for what time of the day he would have to work, so long as he would be around something as wonderful. He smiled at that very thought to. However, as he came closer and closer to his home, the smile faded away, quickly.

Outside of the apartment, was a black car that he became familiar with on that night of the shooting. And standing out from the large car were three men, all of them seeming to be on patrol somewhat, and wearing a high class brand of coats, though it could just barely be seen in this sort of darkness. The Austrian stopped in his track immediately. Frozen. No, it couldn't be the same men. The same ones that were with that evil mafia leader. They just couldn't be. But what use was it in fooling himself? They were.

Why were they here? Were they after someone? Trying to get information from the people that lived here? He did not understand. Gilbert himself made it obvious that he was not going to harm the Austrian. Yet, it seems that there could be a chance that the man lied. That maybe he had changed his mind and may be looking for him. There was not much of a way to find that out for sure. There was one, but, it was somewhat of a long shot.

Looking up at his apartment building, and through the window that lead to the living room, his eyes widened a bit more then they already were. The lights were on. And there were people walking inside. There were two of them, from what Roderich saw. But could just barely see them himself. Then, before he could try to do anything else...

"Hey!"

Someone called out. The voice holding a thick, German accent. Roderich jumped lightly from being startled, and quickly snapped his head over at the direction of the vehicle . There, all of the men had made eye contact with him, eyes narrowed. They recognized him.

Oh no.

The Austrian slowly began to back away, knowing now that it was more then likely that they _were _after him. And right when he took that first step, yet another call was given.

"_Boss! He's down her!_"

The man yelled out in German, quickly turning to the window of Roderich's apartment. Once the call was made, someone quickly came to that very window, an moved the curtains a bit more to the side then they already were. Roderich soon felt that same stare. The stare that only one man, one human being, could ever give him in this world. Once more, he tensed under it, and a small bit of fear ran through him. He already knew who had looked down upon him, however, he could not help but to return eye contact. Thus, his violets met those dark red hues. Only a few seconds passed. Then he finally realized.

Gilbert was inside his home. And all that he had hoped to not be true, was.

Suddenly, the window was forced open by the mafia leader, then he stuck his head out and yelled two simple words.

"_After him!_"

Gilbert ordered out in German, so that everyone would be able to understand. The men were quick to carry out what they have been told. Two were already running at the Austrian, while the one got into the car, slamming the door shut, turning on the engine. Roderich felt his heart skip a beat, before it began to race, and pound at his chest. His whole body screamed at him.

_Run! Run! Hurry up and run!_

Without second thought he complied. Dropping all of his newly bought groceries, he spun around, and slammed his feet down onto the concert as hard and as fast as he could. Trying to get away from these men. He swung his arms back an forth, panting deeply already, not being as athletic as he wished to be at this moment. He could hear the followers coming at him just as quickly, gaining on him. He had to force himself to run faster, even if he did not have much of a chance on getting away from them, he had to at least try. Thus, he pushed himself, which in turn made him go at least a bit faster, but not by much. It was not long either before he heard the sound of screeching car wheels as they more then likely made a sharp, quick turn, and a bright light, in only a matter of a few seconds, shining bright from behind him, the vehicle now chasing him as well.

Roderich had to think of something, and think of something fast. There had to be a quicker way to escape... A short cut. Quickly, glancing around with his violet hues, his eyes rested on an ally way. His decision was made right then and there. It may not stop the men behind him from following, but, it would surely slow down the damned car.

Yet, he did not even have the chance to carry out the plan. For one of the German men from behind suddenly lunged out, and tackled the Austrian to the ground. In turn, Roderich gave out a loud yelp of surprise, and pain as well, as he hit the harsh ground below him. Luckily his head did not make contact with the ground. His shoulder did however. Yet there was not much that could be done. For soon, his arm was gripped after the gangster shot back up to his feet, forcing Roderich to stand up as well. A small hiss escaped the male from the harsh pull, it only worsening the pain that he was feeling. The other did not take notice though. He just restrained the young man, keeping him in a firm hold, while the other two quickly did the same, one gripping Roderich's other arm while the other went for his gun, threatening to use it. However the Austrian could not take much notice to that. He was busy on trying to get out of the men's grasp, struggling, while now having his hues open to give out a fierce glare.

"Release me at once! I demand it!"

He ordered the men, finally having his courage, now that he was caught. Then, as the car came into mid-stop, the passenger door flew open, and out came no other then Gilbert Beilschmidt. And he did not look anymore please then Roderich did what so ever.

The Austrian took notice at the man, then, quickly snapped his gaze over to him, now letting his own bit of fury out upon him.

"You...! Who do you think you are?! You obnoxious bastard! How dare you invade my home! And even chase after me! We had a deal, yet, here you are with your damned goons, harassing me in such a manner! Tell them to let me go!"

Roderich ran his mouth in the anger he now felt over anything else. Fear was long gone from him.

Gilbert was not going to be as kind to him as he was on the night where they first spoke to one another though. For as soon as the gangster was right before the Austrian, he suddenly gripped his neck. Not to where it would cut off circulation, but, enough to get Roderich's full attention. The Prussian glared down at him, in such a dangerous manner. His eyes even seemed to have glown dimly from such anger that was being expressed. A small shiver went down Roderich's spine, yet, he stood his ground, returning his own glare, refusing to sink under the other as others more then likely have before.

"Shut up already, priss."

Gilbert growled warningly. Then, he tightened his grip, to where Roderich now felt pressure on his vocals, having to hold back a small cough from the hand's new grip.

"Where the hell do you get off, huh?"

The boss asked then. Roderich swallowed deeply, then, went to tug back from the Prussian. However, this only made the grip a bit tighter. Roderich choked lightly at the grip then, but, lightly, and only for a second or two. Still. He did not bow down at the man before him.

"What are you talking about?"

Roderich asked, having only a small bit of trouble of making his own tone match his mood. However, he managed. Gilbert growled at that responce, not satisfied with it at all, and in the mist of his frustration he gave a rough shake to Roderich, which made the Austrian gasp softly from the sudden pressure. The leader did not take much care though. He was to angered, irritated, and annoyed to do so.

"I did not make a deal with you. Don't even try to put words in my mouth... And you weren't there, at your job. Out of all dame times I may need you, you wern't fucking there... Do you know how pissed off I am right now because of all this shit?"

Gilbert asked. Roderich did not fully understand what he was talking about. Or what he was trying to mean. Needed him? For what? All he did was play on the piano, that was all. And the reason, or reasons, on why he was giving Gilbert so much trouble right now were all obvious. The man knew them, yet, did not seem to take them to mind at the moment. Did not even consider them. So in turn, even though he wouldn't have anyways, Roderich showed his own form of inconsideration to the other man.

"I don't care."

Was Roderich's only reply. He managed to sound cold, and indeed, careless. This in turn made Gilbert even more mad then he already was. Having a growl pass his pale lips, the grip tightened once more, which made the Austrian finally cough, having a bit of trouble of breathing now. The Prussian did not take much notice, however, as he brought his face closer to the other's, now being only a inch or two apart.

"You better, and quick. Or else you are going to have more then a hand around your neck."

The Prussian warned. Still. Roderich tried to pull off his best glare at the moment, trying to stand strong over the other as best as he could. And of course, he went to reply to such a comment. Though, something stopped him. As well as the others, from doing anything further. A car from the street over. Slowly, very slowly, was driving by. It was full of men too, all fo them also wearing rather expensive looking wear, but no coats unlike the rest of the people in town. They stared at the whole ordeal, watching like hawks on their prey. Gilbert snapped his head around, and looked at them, along with everyone else. His mood changed slightly. Then, he seemed to have realized something.

That guy in the front seat... It was the Russian messenger.

What the fuck was he doing here?

Wait...

Gilbert wrinkled his nose slightly.

"Son of a bitch."

The Prussian mumbled. Roderich glanced at him, then back to the driver, wondering if he should call out for help. However, he had this huge feeling that he shouldn't. That he should just keep his mouth shut, and that he was better off in the position that he was in now. Thus, not even the smallest sound came out from him.

In another matter, Roderich did not understand any of this. Why did they so suddenly stop? Who were those people? He did not even have the slightest clue. Maybe they were people that were possibly thinking about helping the Austrian? More then likely not. But if not that, then, who? Why were they even prowling in such a way if not thinking to come to his rescue? So many questions, he knew, but he couldn't help it. In such a situation, they tend to pop up, if not out of no where. He knew that there was one person that had all the answers to what he was wondering, and that was none other then Gilbert himself. This was not the time though. Even if he did ask, there would be no reply.

Maybe now was his chance, however, to make his escape. To get away while all the men were distracted. The situation between these forces had nothing to do with him. He should just go, now that he had this moment. Though with his luck, after what seemed to have been an hour of that car driving by slowly, it suddenly went faster, an went on down the street, now out of sight.

There was only a pause. Between everyone. It was so quiet now that only the sounds of the streets from afar can be heard. Then, suddenly, Gilbert spoke.

"_Get him in the car._"

He demanded in the Germanic language, letting go of the Austrian's neck, before sharply turning around and heading into the passenger's seat.

"_Hurry up and get him in the fucking car! Let's go!_"

He sounded quite urgent. Eager to get out of here really, as he slammed the door shut. Quickly the men did as they were told, now dragging the Austrian to the car. Of course Roderich snapped out in protest, struggling with the holds once more, though he was unable to break free.

"Wait! No! Let me go! I refuse to go with you anywhere!"

He yelled at them, still trying as best as he can to get free. However, these men were stronger then him, and soon after that back door was opened, he was shoved inside, the men soon following after him. And even then, Roderich kept protesting and fighting. To escape. To go home. To go back to his life, that was now going to change. Forever.

"Damn you all! Do you now hear me?! Release me!"

Once more Roderich roared in his anger. His words only feel on careless ears. And soon, the car sped off.

Roderich did not have even the least bit of hope to escape, now that he was in the hands of one man.

Gilbert Beilschmidt.

* * *

There we go... Ah. Alright! Do your thing guys, and **REVIEW**. Next chapter should be out... soon!


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